


On the Rocks

by Thaylepo



Series: On The Rocks [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol and later mentions of alcohol abuse, Also hella bad language holy shit, Brief pta sans cameo i guess, Eventual Smut, Late to the snas/reader game but what the hey, Let's hop on this crazy pony ride who's with me, Named reader so ya'll been warned, Slow ass burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thaylepo/pseuds/Thaylepo
Summary: Life might be interesting in the quaint monster-filled town of Little Ebott, but stealing a hotdog from a skeleton in slippers is a little more adventure than you're willing to accept. Too bad it's just the beginning.





	1. Hotdogs and sex on the beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yoo okay we are finally doing this yeah
> 
> This is a reader insert fanfic, like it says in the tags, and the reader is named. This is literally the one and only warning, so if that's not your bag, bless your bones and have a good night, may we meet in other fics ^^

You're too good a friend, that's what the problem is.

Even if you don't really do the best job of it when you're hungry. Or not hungry. Or anytime, really. Which is why all you can muster is to half-assedly raise your hand for Cam to high-five as she jogs by.

"That's ten," you tell her. She's sweating as she begins to slow her pace, but she's barely out of breath. Girl got stamina.

"Thanks," Cam pants after she's looped back to your bench in a steady walk and you hold out a towel for her. She collapses next to you, stretching her legs out. "What's my time?"

"I was supposed to be keeping time?"

"It was your one job, Ro."

You snicker. "Twelve minutes, thirty four seconds. A record?"

She shakes her head, patting down her short brown hair. "Not even close." She blows out an annoyed sigh. "I'm always faster with my jogging buddy. Too bad he's only out here at the crack of dawn."

You look overhead. It's more like the slice of late afternoon. Which makes little difference to you as far as jogging is concerned.

"Well don't look at me," you tell her, slouching back on the bench and watching a large round monster with one gigantic eye amble by, smoking a cigarette. It gives the two of you a passing glance before politely tipping its small fedora at you.

Cam waves back to it. "You should try running, you know," she says to you. "I know you don't need to lose weight, but it's really invigorating."

"Any more strenuous activity than people watching would probably kill me." You watch the cyclops monster meander their way down the park path with a small smile, before your eyes move back to the nearby hotdog stand. God, you could fight someone for a hotdog right now.

"Because you're in shit shape," Cam punches your arm and you wince. She might be shorter than you, but she's got a solid and healthy amount of muscle on her.

'Solid' isn't exactly a word you would use for yourself. A stiff breeze can and has knocked you over.

"Hey, are you working tomorrow night?" Cam asks you, standing up and forcing you to either leave your bench or be left behind.

You regard her with instant suspicion. "Why?"

"I need a ride to something."

"To what."

She cringes in apology. "PTA meeting at my little sister's school."

You stare at her. "PTA meeting."

"Yeah, you know, parent-teacher association?"

"I am not driving you to suburban soccer mom hell, Cam. Since when are you a parent?"

"I gotta fill in for my mom. She's still not feeling well."

Oh. Well now you feel like a jerk. Dammit.

"There'll be food there," Cam wheedles.

Sigh.

You pretend to consider, just as you both are about pass the hotdog stand. "Okay. Buy a me a hotdog and I'll do it."

"I uh, don't think anyone's there." She points to a whiteboard sign propped up with _'on break, brb 5min'_ scrawled on it, and you are pretty sure the thing's been standing empty for at least twenty minutes. Because you've been watching it like a starving chihuahua.

"So steal me a hotdog." You aren't serious, but she approaches the stand anyway and peers inside. And snorts with laughter.

"I found the hotdog guy," she snickers. "And I think he's dead."

" _What_." You shove her aside to get a look.

They're not dead exactly. But they _are_ a skeleton. A small skeleton in shorts and a ridiculous wiener hat pulled down over their face, crammed up inside the tiny stand like a cat in a fishbowl and snoring peacefully.

"Oh my gooooooooood...." Cam giggles through her fingers. "Only in this town."

She wasn't wrong. Very few monsters had ventured out into the greater world beyond Mount Ebbot, ever since the mountain spat them all up a few months ago. It made this place pretty one of a kind.

"How are his eyes closed?" You wonder. Skeletons didn't have eyelids. You're fairly sure of that.

"Still want me to steal you that hotdog?" Cam grins, nudging you.

"Stealing wieners from the grim reaper? No thanks," you snicker back. "That's more karmic retribution than I'm prepared for."

"Pfft. More like the adorable reaper. Lookit those slippers." She pulls out her phone and takes a picture. "Wanna wake him up?"

"Nah, let him sleep. You can buy me pizza instead."

"Ro, you are the best." She snaps another picture of the sleeping hotdog skeleton.

"Yes. I am. Let's go, I got work in a couple hours."

Okay, you had to admit as you left the stand and its snoozing occupant, the sleeping skeleton was pretty cute. It was almost worth not getting a hotdog. Almost.

You literally never know what to expect with monsters. It seems like every single one of them is wildly different and even stranger than the last.

It made you kinda like this town.

 

* * *

 

You fucking hate this town and everybody in it.

But especially, right now, the guys over at table four. Assholes better leave a massive tip or so help you, you were going to glare ineffectually at them over the bar for the rest of the night. While rubbing your ass.

Your boss sticks his head out of the back. "Kitchen's closed," he grunts. "Going for a smoke."

He gets a wave in response. The fewer words you have to say for the rest of your shift the better.

On the bright side, it's almost over. In couple of hours you get to wander over and politely tell the guys at table four to go the fuck home, and hopefully not have to kick anyone in the kneecaps to get them out the door.

You wipe down the bar for the fifteenth time and begin to count down the minutes, and the front door comes crashing open so hard it sends a chair flying into the wall.

"NGGGGAAAAAAH!"

You peek out from where you ducked-and-covered behind the bar. Some seven-foot-tall fish lady is lowering her booted foot, somewhat sheepishly.

"Oops," she says to the room in general. "Sorry about that."

It sounds practiced. Like she's used to just throwing it out there.

She spots you as you stand up, yellow eyes widening. Wait. Eye. She only has one, the other hidden behind a black patch. With a Hello Kitty sticker on it.

"You!" She hollers, storming across the floor and kicking more unfortunate furniture out of her way. She slams her hands down on the bartop, sending the well bottles clinking. "Is this a bar?!"

You stare at her. You look behind you, at the shelf of alcohol and the framed liquor license doing a wobbly dance on the wall. You slowly take your hand off the little bottle of pepper spray in your pocket.

"Yes," you tell her.

"And you're a bartender?!"

"Yes?"

Her scaly blue face splits into a massive grin, showing off way too many jagged yellow teeth. She slaps a twenty down on the bar, then reaches down to haul up a small yellow dinosaur by the arms and plonks them onto a stool.

"I need you to pour my girl here a drink!"

How the hell you didn't notice a yellow dinosaur in a floral print dress come in the door, you have no idea. But this is a very reasonable request for someone who has just walked into a bar, fish lady or no.

"Sure," you say. You smile the best it's-really-fucking-late-but-welcome smile you can muster at the little dinosaur, who is nervously chewing her stubby claws. "What would you like?"

She flicks her spectacled eyes to you, as if she wasn't expecting to be addressed. "Oh! Um, d-do you have... any s-sake?"

Sake. You glance back at the shelf behind you, ninety percent of which is bottles of rum, whiskey and tequila. "I am confident that we do not," you tell her.

"Oh..." the poor dinosaur looks like she wants to melt into her stool. You feel instantly bad for her.

"Can I get you something else?"

"I... I don't..."

"Gah!" The fish woman pounds on the bar again, making the dinosaur jump a clear foot in the air. It's an honest freaking miracle none of the glasses above you have shattered yet. "What kind of shitty bar doesn't have _sake_?! Come on Alphys, let's find a different one!"

"Oh no, Undyne... we w-walked all over.... I don't think...." she glances around, shrinking when she sees the guys at table four staring slack jawed and hiding behind their cheap beers. "Th-this is f-f-fine, really."

"This is uh, also the only bar in town." You take the chance to throw that in, cringing when Undyne glares at you from behind her disheveled hair. "Sorry."

The angry fish lady chews that over while Alphys nervously twiddles her claws together. You wait, in some bizarre kind of standoff, for the impending explosion.

It doesn't happen. Undyne grips the bar in both hands and slowly sits down beside her dinosaur girlfriend. "Okay," she grits out, wrapping an arm around Alphys and squishing her to her side. "I said I'd take you to a human bar tonight, and if this is the only one, then we'll make the best of it! You!" She shoves a clawed finger in your face. "Bartender! Make something my girl will like!"

It's late as balls, you were already in a bad mood, you've just been shouted at and possibly threatened... but for some reason her challenge sparks something you haven't felt since you started working in this place.

Pride in your goddamn skills, is what. You grab a martini glass off the rack.

"Just wait," you tell them.

Two minutes later, you set the glass in front of your two new customers, strain a shaker of swirling pinkish-red cocktail into it and drop in a cherry for good measure. You slide it towards the fish and the dinosaur, who both lower their faces to the bar, looking at it in awe.

"W-what is it?" Alphys whispers.

"A Cherry Blossom Margarita," you tell her. "I figured you might like something Japanese-themed."

You have never seen sheer delight on a dinosaur's face before. You opt not to tell them that it should still be made with sake instead of cheap brandy, but bartenders in crappy understocked dives cannot be choosers. Alphys takes a sip.

"Undyne! It's d-delicious!"

Yep. That's definitely pride you're feeling.

"So that's a human drink, huh!" Undyne grins, beaming at her happy girlfriend. She flings the twenty she'd slapped down at you. "Here you go! You earned it, punk."

"You... want change?"

"Change is for _losers_."

Welp. No complaints from you.

You watch them take turns sipping their drink. The guys at table four shuffle out the door, heads down, and you give thanks for small favours before hurrying over to clear their glasses and take the money they left. As expected, no tip. One did leave his phone number, which you swept up with the rest of the garbage.

You hear a low grunt from behind the kitchen door. It's your boss, trying to get your attention without putting any part of his body through it. You raise an eyebrow at him and he tries to clear his throat again, which only ends in a coughing fit.

Ugh. You take the dirty glasses over and try to block him from the room. The last thing you need is to have him scare your new customers away by dying of smoker's cough in the kitchen doorway.

"What's up, Ike?" you ask, when he sounds about done.

He flaps a meaty hand at the bar. "Did you let those in?"

"Did I let what in."

He glares at you, like it should be obvious. And it is. But you're not going to give him the satisfaction. "Get them out of here. They just scared off the regulars."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Ike, all your goddamn _regulars_ are guys who sit and nurse one frikkin' beer all night. You want to actually turn a profit this week? Maybe don't kick out paying customers."

"Don't tell me how to run my business."

"Run it better then." You shove the dirty glasses in his hands. "You want them gone, go do it yourself."

He glances at Undyne, with her Hello Kitty eyepatch and big yellow teeth and the muscles bulging under her motorcycle jacket, and pales all the way up his balding head.

Yeah. You thought so.

"I'm heading out for the night," he tells you, clutching the beer glasses and shrinking back into the kitchen like the greasy little troll he is. "Just get rid of them."

"Whatever, Ike."

You wait until the door fully closes and you hear the rumble of the dishwasher starting, before turning back to the two monster girlfriends at the bar.

They've finished their drink. And were staring at you with quiet, unreadable expressions. At least, Undyne was. Alphys was staring at her lap.

"We can go," Undyne says gruffly. "Don't want to get you in trouble with your boss. Nerd," she adds sullenly, like it's a compliment.

You set your mouth, pulling down another glass and grabbing the shaker. "Forget him. He's a weasel."

"Are... are you s-sure?" Alphys mumbled into her shoulder. "W-w-we don't want to c-cause any p-p-p...." she takes a deep breath, "p-problems..."

"Yeah," her girlfriend adds. "We're used to this sort of crap."

A little flicker of righteous anger burns in the back of your throat. You're not normally one to get fired up about these things, but dammit. They liked your drink. And they'd tipped. They deserved better.

"Don't worry about it," you tell them decisively, pouring orange and cranberry juice into the shaker along with vodka, schnapps and ice. "He can't afford to fire me anyway. You know how many employees he's driven off? Literally no one left in this town will work here anymore."

"Why do _you_ work here then?" Undyne asks, tapping her claws on the bar top.

"I'm a bartender," you shrug, scooping the glass full of ice while shaking the tumbler with one hand. "And this is the only bar in town."

She nods, accepting your answer. Alphys finally pulls her head out of the neck of her dress.

"Y-you should check out G-Grillby's sometime!"

"What's a 'grillby'?"

"It's a monster bar, up on the mountain," Undyne tells you. "Just opened up. Used to be a place underground, too. But Grillby doesn't serve human drinks."

"Y-yeah. He said you gotta get a l-license for that first."

"Oh," you say, uncapping the shaker. This is the first you've heard of the place. But if it's up the mountain, you're not surprised. You don't tend to venture out of your apartment for much besides work or food. "Well, good luck to him. Some competition might finally put this hole out of business."

It's only half a joke. You pour the drink over the ice, adding a dash of grenadine, and slide it across to them. They both peer at it closely, just like the first one. You could get used to that, you think.

"What is it?"

"It's called a Sex on the Beach," you tell them. "And it's on the house, if you guys stick around till closing."

The two monsters look up with twin expressions. Part delight, part bewilderment. Alphys claps her hands gleefully and Undyne picks up the glass and takes a long sip, meeting your eyes with another toothy grin.

"Alright, bartender," she says, the fins on her head flicking out. "Show us what you _got_."

You can't help smirking back. This was going to be worth staying late to clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipes for a [Cherry Blossom Margarita](http://www.mademan.com/mm/how-make-japanese-cherry-blossom-margarita.html) and [Sex on the Beach](https://makemeacocktail.com/cocktail/6798/sex-on-the-beach/) if anyone wants 'em ;)


	2. What is this lemon flavoured bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the awesome and positive response to chapter one! I'm all aglow ^^
> 
> For quick reference, both the drinks mentioned in this chapter can be found on [this list of the worlds most potent cocktails](http://www.therichest.com/rich-list/most-shocking/10-of-the-worlds-most-potent-alcoholic-cocktails/).
> 
> ([Aunt Roberta was not fucking around.](http://3tend.com/article/top-4-strongest-cocktails))

"... And that's when she says, 'You got anything that isn't made with fruit punch, nerd?'" you tell Cam as you pull into the modest gravel parking lot.

"No way. What did you give her?"

"Fireball and tabasco. But then she challenges me to make her the 'strongest, toughest, fit for a warrior' drinks I know." You shake your head, yanking up on the sticky parking brake. "I have never before seen someone down three Zombies with an Aunt Roberta chaser and still be able to _walk_."

"Oh my god," Cam laughs.

"I made like eighty bucks in tips off them, too. I tried to tell her the drinks were not that expensive, but she just kept giving me twenties."

"So monsters can actually get drunk?"

"Eh..." you shrug as you lock your car. "Alphys looked a little bouncy after her second cherry margarita. But I don't think Undyne blinked all night, even when she started summoning these glowy-ass spear things. That is one scary lady."

Cam is still snickering, holding the door for you. "I wonder if she's the same fish monster my jogging buddy told me about."

"Could be. Brings a new meaning to 'drinking like a fish'."

"Pfft."

She leads you into a classroom that's apparently been set aside for this. You've never been to a parent-teacher meeting before, being neither parent nor teacher, but somehow you fail to be surprised by any of it.

The air conditioning is set to freezing, your plastic chair has a crack running right under your ass-bone, and the whole room smells like there's been a horrible massacre of plug-in air fresheners. The school building itself is ancient and probably chock full of delicious asbestos. You felt kind of bad for the kids they let into this place.

But, as promised, there is a snack table at the back. With a kettle for tea, a thermos of coffee, and a single plate of home-made snacks.

"How's the lemon bar?" Cam asks quietly beside you.

"It's shit." You take another bite. It tastes like whoever made it had used chalk instead of flavouring. You bet it was even sugar-free.

She pats your shoulder in sympathy. "I'm sorry. We'll get pizza again after this, promise."

"Mmrph." You cram the rest of the bar in your mouth and pick up another. The room is crawling with too-expensive clothes and really bad perms. And _pearls_. Who even did the pearl thing anymore?

Some of these people are _younger_ than you. This is actual hell, you decide. You're glad you're only here to observe it.

"Soooo.... you okay back here for the next hour?"

"Yer leabin' me?" You swallow. And gag a little. "You make me drive you here and you're not even gonna sit at the snack table and sass everyone with me?"

"I can't. Mom actually gave me a task list for this meeting." Cam rolls her eyes.

"I am so glad I don't have your family."

She sticks her tongue out at you. You make a face back because you are an adult.

"Ahem." The pearls have their hands on their hips and a very snotty look on their face. "If you two are done over there, we can begin?"

Cam pats your leg. "Sit tight, don't make eye contact and they'll leave you alone. Here," she hands you her phone. "Because I know you never remember to charge yours."

"'Fenks," you tell her, mouth full again. Music and games are even better while stewing in social anxiety.

She leaves you to go over the the gaggle of bad hair at the front of the room and you slouch back in your broken-ass chair. One hour. It's not so bad. At least you have a plate of lemony bar-shaped things that vaguely imitate food.

Your head is firmly into an epic race of fat cartoon penguins and some kind of bouncy j-pop thrash metal Cam has on her phone for some reason, when the door rattles open behind you.

Pearls makes a dramatic noise at whoever it is. "God, I should have known. You're filling in for her majesty again?"

There is a level of sass there that vaguely surprises you. Whoever 'her majesty' is, you figure she probably isn't very popular with the local ruling moms.

"what can i say, linda? some people have _goat_ actual jobs."

You snort. Did the guy just call Pearls a goat? Hilarious. You turn up the music.

"Ugh. Just... go sit down. Alright, first order of business, we need to discuss proper maintenance for the school building itself...."

Pearls (Linda, whoever) fades into the background, you re-immerse yourself in your penguin race, and the person who just walked in sits down.

Right.

Freaking.

Beside you.

In a mostly empty room.

You yank out an earbud, ready to tell the dude to go sit with the gaggle of disinterested dads in the other corner, if he wanted company so bad, because you are not interested in rubbing thighs with a stranger when there are two dozen other chairs available—

You stop mid-croak. The guy is a monster.

That alone is pretty much takes the wind out of your sails. From your most recent monster encounter, you kind of figure some of them may be blissfully unaware of what humans consider polite boundaries.

The other thing that distracts you is that he's a skeleton. A small skeleton, again somehow with eyelids. Which are closed while he leans back his chair, head pillowed in the hood of his jacket and ignoring you completely.

He is not wearing a wiener hat, but his fluffy slippers and sharpied "i put the hot in hotdog" t-shirt are suspiciously familiar.

"Hey," you say.

One bony eyelid opens (how the fuck) and he tilts his toothy grin at you. "can i help you, pal?"

God, even his voice is laid-back, like he's speaking all in lower caps or something. You pull up one of the pics on Cam's phone and hold it out to him like it's a mugshot. "This you?"

"heh." A white bony hand pokes out from the sleeve of his hoodie and takes the phone from you. You resist the urge to grab it, just to see what it feels like. "that's a nice shot. you creep on people's naptimes often?"

"Everyday. You sleep on the job often?" Okay, so you were a _little_ sore you didn't get a hotdog yesterday. Just a little.

"everyday."

He taps idly at the screen of Cam's phone, and you wonder if his little white fingerbones actually have any effect on it. In the background, someone is talking about bake sales and whether or not volleyball nets are safe for kids. You tune it out.

"you like the hotdog?"

"What?"

"the hotdogs. i make 'em myself. did you like it?"

"I didn't get one."

"oh. why not?"

You stare at him. "Because you were _asleep_."

The skeleton blinks, before his lazy grin spreads back over his face. "oh."

You snorts. "Gimme back my phone." Plugging your headphones back in, you decide not to make the mistake of engaging with anything for the rest of the hour.

"hey."

You yank out the earbuds. " _What_."

"pass me a lemon bar?"

Oh. No, that was reasonable. "They taste like day-old ass," you tell him. Maybe louder than you should have.

"'day-old ass' is linda's specialty," he winks conspiratorially.

"You must come to a lot of these things then."

"too many. never seen you before though."

"I was promised food."

"i respect that."

So that is how you reach some odd sort of camaraderie with a hotdog skeleton at a PTA meeting, sharing a plate of chalky dessert squares for the next forty minutes. You did consider offering him an earbud, but he doesn't exactly have a ear to put it in. Skeleton problems, you figure.

By the time the meeting breaks up, he's leaned back and snoozing in his chair again. You notice his slippered feet barely touch the floor.

Damn. That is cute.

Cam is accosted by two bad perms and a sweater dress before she can escape, so you resign yourself to waiting a bit longer while people meander over to your snack table. You have other commitments anyway; your purple cartoon penguin is well on its way to becoming supreme penguin of the races, after all.

A hand taps you on the shoulder and you refrain from biting it. It's one of the dads. And, glancing up, not just any old dad.

It's the guy from good old table four, from good old last night's shift.

Small. Fucking. World.

"Excuse me," he smiles chinlessly. "I swear I've seen you before but, y'know, I just can't place you."

Well. Now this is happening. You shake your head once and go back to your game. That bastard yellow penguin is not beating you to the fish this time.

"No no," he sits down in front of you, backwards on the chair like he isn't pushing forty and balding. "I'm sure of it. We've definitely met somewhere."

Some tiny, little thread inside you snaps. You can almost hear it.... yep. It's the end of your patience.

You don't put down the phone or even make eye contact. "You're right," you drawl. "You've seen me at Ike's bar. Down on fifth."

You say it _loudly_. And you can almost see him start to backpedal in his own brain.

"Oh, no, I don't..."

You barrelled on monotonously. "Last night you ordered a round of Heineken for your buddies. Then you smacked my ass and didn't leave a tip."

The room goes into that thick, murmuring silence you only ever see in movies. The skeleton beside you starts wheezing in his sleep, and it takes a minute before you realize he's laughing.

At the front of the room, Pearls is, honest to god, clutching her pearls. " _Derek_ ," she snaps coldly.

Dad-of-the-frickin'-year over here mumbles something like "no s'mistaken sorry" and scurries off, tripping over his chair. You give a little wave over to Cam, who looks like she is about to pee herself.

Your skeleton homie pokes you. "that," he grins, "was hilarious."

"Yeah?"

"a real ass-slapper." He winks. You turn that over in your brain for a minute. "hey," he adds, standing up and stretching with a loud series of pops that only raise further questions for you. "come by my stand again sometime. i'll give you a dog on the house."

You blink. "For real?"

"sure. i never let a good laugh go unrewarded." He pulls the wiener hat from his voluminous hoodie pocket and puts it on, giving you the finger guns. "welp, break's over. see ya 'round, pal."

He shuffles out the door, yawning somehow without opening his mouth.

Cam manages to escape from the sweater dress and saunters up with a big shit eating grin. "You made a fri-end~" she teases.

"Shut it."

"You did! You made a friend! I'm so proud of you!" She clearly intends to tease you until you pinch her or something, and plops into the skeleton's chair.

A massive, ripping fart echoes through the room.

You can't help it. You crack the hell up. Cam reaches under her butt and pulls out a deflated whoopie cushion.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Linda snaps. "Every goddamn time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone who has not googled "pta sans" needs to google "pta sans"


	3. On cats and dogs, and poor life choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am freaking amazed by the reception to this fic! I'm super stoked you all seem to like it.
> 
> Super big thanks to my beta and Cam's creator, [Beautiful_Infinity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Infinity/pseuds/Beautiful_Infinity), she a real doll ^^

It's a couple days before you're able to collect on the skeleton's offer.

A few times a week, you have the absolute pleasure of working a second job in the vicinity of the three crossed streets that comprise the 'downtown area' of Little Ebbot. On those days you usually meet Cam for lunch, since the park is close enough to walk to and she works at a sandwich shop nearby.

She can also sometimes be convinced to sneak you some cookies on her way out. But this time, you've been betrayed.

"I'm not working today," she tells you. "I got a date at the gym."

"The gym. How romantic," you drawl.

She snickers in your ear. "It's a training date. My jogging buddy convinced me to join the volunteer fire squad with him."

"The volunteer _what_ squad."

There's a pause on the phone. "You've never lived in a small town before, have you?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Well anyway," she goes on, "fitness trials are in two weeks, so I really need to start working on my core strength right away. Sorry."

"Fine. Go. Get ripped. Follow your dreams."

A giggle, and she hangs up. Looks like you are on your own today. So when your lunch break rolls around, you walk to the park solo and on a mission.

A hotdog mission.

The stand is not in the same place as before, which should not be a surprise since it's a _hotdog stand_ andit has frikkin' wheels. The skeleton probably trots it all over town. You probably should have had a backup plan for this mission, but it's too late now. You're in too deep.

Lunch break slowly ticking away, you finally find it tucked in a shady little copse of trees. It looks mostly ignored by park goers in favour of an ice cream stand being run by a blue rabbit monster, so there isn't even a line.

But there is a skeleton, complete with wiener hat, dozing in the shade. Mission status: success.

You wonder if you'll need to wake him up, but when you reach the stand those bony eyelids slowly open, little white pinprick pupils in dark eye sockets focusing on you for a minute before they brighten and his lazy grin widens.

"oh, hey pal. how's it goin'?"

"Hungry," you grunt. There is no time for chitchat. You have ten minutes left on your lunch break.

"guess i owe you that dog, huh." Oh good, he didn't forget.

"Please."

"welp. i'm a skeleton of my word. here you go, pal."

He reaches down into the stand.... and hands you a small fluffy white dog.

Most of your interactions with other living people do not prepare you for being spontaneously handed cute fluffy animals. So the dog is accepted before you realize what is happening, and tucked into the crook of your arm where it pants happily.

You stare at it. The skeleton grins so wide you think his face is going to literally split in two.

"Where's its house?" You ask.

The grin shrinks into sort of perplexed amusement. "heh, what?"

"His house," you repeat. "You said you'd give me a dog 'on the house'. Here's the dog, where's the house?"

The skeleton stares at you. Then his eye sockets scrunch and you hear that low wheezing again, before it turns into a rather pleasant throaty chuckle. His smacks a hand to his skull in mirth, and you can't help laughing a little yourself.

Even hungry, it's hard to be cranky when holding a tiny dog who is licking your fingers.

"that..." the skeleton wipes away an imaginary tear from his eye socket, "that was a good one, pal. i wasn't expectin' that."

"Thanks," you tell him, scratching the little pup's ears. "Can I ask you something?"

"shoot."

"Have you seriously been keeping a dog in your stand for two days on the off chance I came by?"

"that would be telling."

The two of you share a grin. He reaches his bony hand over the stand at you.

"the name's sans. sans the skeleton."

You don't say, you think. But the temptation to finally see what those bones feel like is too great. You set the dog down at your feet where it proceeds to have a scratch and a lick in true dog fashion, and bring your hand to meet his.

Almost too late, you remember the whoopie cushion and seize his sleeve instead, inspecting his skeletal palm for any funny business. There's none, but he actually looks pleased that you checked. You slide your hand into his.

His fingerbones are hard and cool, phalanges and metacarpals shifting minutely in your grip. There's none of the roughness and brittle feel that human bone has. They're smooth, more like fine ceramic instead. But his fingers lightly squeeze yours in return, and when you run your thumb over his knuckles there's an undeniable feeling of _aliveness_ there.

It's.... honestly the most alien thing you've ever felt. And it's amazing.

"heh..." Sans the skeleton chuckles again, flexing his hand in your grip. "you, uh, want a minute alone with it there?"

You blink, still holding his hand. "Does it comes off?"

To your credit, it takes no time at all to realize what a dumbass question that is. You drop his hand, but he only laughs again and wiggles his fingers lazily at you.

"Sorry," you say. "That was rude of me."

"s'okay pal. you still want that hotdog?"

" _Yes_." Your lunch break is pretty much over, but by god you are completing this mission.

"well, i'm afraid i'm all outta hotdogs..." your face must have turned briefly homicidal, because he quickly holds up a hand. "but... i can give you a hot cat instead."

"A hot _cat_."

"you bet."

You completely expect Sans to give you an actual cat this time, but he thankfully reaches for the tongs instead, plucking a normal looking hotdog up into a bun and handing it to you.

The wiener has tiny little cat ears on it. You burst out laughing again.

"Okay, that's pretty cute," you admit, taking a bite.

It fucking meows at you.

You stop mid-chew. Sans just blinks at you lazily, leaning on the stand and looking the picture of innocence.

Chew. _Meow_.

You seriously can't tell if he's making the noise at you or what. His mouth literally does not move.

So you do what any sane, hungry person would do. You shrug and devour your 'hotcat', meows and all, while looking Sans right in his shit-eating skeletal face. Every. Meowing. Bite.

By the time you're done, you still have no idea who won this little standoff, but the skeleton's grin has reached new levels of face-splitting and you feel somewhat proud for that. You toss the last bite to the dog, who has been sitting patiently at your feet, and it snarfs it down with one last lingering ' _mow_ '.

"Not bad," you tell Sans.

"next time try it with ketchup."

With another laugh, you bend over to give the little white dog one last pat. "I gotta get back to work. Thanks for the dog. Er, cat."

He winks lazily at you, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. "see you 'round, pal. tell yer friends."

The little dog finishes licking the last of the hotdog grease off your hand and yaps once. Then it bounds off and walks away across the grass.

On its _hind legs_. Like a person.

Free or not, this is the weirdest damn lunch you've ever had.

 

* * *

 

It doesn't occur to you that you never actually told Sans your name until you're back at the store. There's not much you can do about that now though, since you're already late. But you had the foresight to grab some ice cream before you left the park, and luckily your boss accepts your bribe.

"This tastes.... weird," Danny says, making a face.

You shrug. It did taste... not like ice cream, but it wasn't bad. "Maybe it's dairy free," you suggest.

"Meh. I don't get that health stuff."

"Lucky you're not lactose intolerant then."

"Is that a thing?"

You sigh. Danny is.... not a bad dude. But he's kind of an annoying wanker, if you had to put a name to it. In a world where you can google the answer to any question in seconds, you doubt he's ever even thought to question anything in the first place.

It must be nice, to feel so secure of your place in life.

You flatten your ice cream wrapper on the counter. There's a handwritten message inside that reads _'good things are coming your way today!'_. The brandname, which you didn't notice before, is 'Nice Cream'.

Definitely dairy free.

You and Danny both toss your sticks and wrappers in the garbage and go to restack the wine display before the five o'clock rush. In a town with only one bar, the only liquor store tends to get pretty busy once everyone gets off work.

A thought hits you. "Hey Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"We don't carry sake, do we?"

He pauses in the middle of unboxing some cheap Zinfandel. "Sake? That's that Japanese stuff, right?"

"Japanese rice wine, yeah."

He thinks for a minute, scratching his scruffy blonde hair. "Yeah, actually. I think there's some in the back."

You follow him back into the storage area behind the beer cooler and help him shift some crates of vodka and whiskey until he's managed to dig into the very back. He pulls out a small cardboard box absolutely caked in dust and wipes some off the side.

"Yeah, that looks Japanese-y to me."

"Japanese-y." You repeat. He shrugs and holds up the box for you to see.

The writing on the box _is_ Japanese, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's sake. You opt not to try and explain that though, and instead slit the brittle old packing tape open with your thumbnail and pull out one of the bottles packed inside.

Shit. It is _old_. You can't read the brand, but you do recognize the kanji for sake at least. You hold the bottle up and give it a little shake in the light.

"..... It's brown. Is sake supposed to be brown?" you mumble to yourself. Danny shrugs. "How much is this anyway?"

"Hell, I have no idea. You can have all of it, if you want."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. S'probably been back here since my dad was running the place."

You stow the box under counter for the rest of your shift and lug it out to your car when you're done. Another plus of small town life, even the liquor store shuts its doors before seven. Waving goodbye to Danny as he locks up, you drive your lazy ass the five minutes to your apartment.

The neon 'OPEN' sign is lit in Ike's bar window when you pull into the parking lot behind the building. It's almost like it has a symbiotic relationship with the liquor store; when one closes the other opens.

Not for the first time, you think it's honestly a shame the place is such a dive. The building apparently used to be some fancy town hotel back in the roaring twenties, but now it's so rundown and peeling it's more of a giant eyesore than anything. The only part of it still functioning is the bar on the ground floor. The rest of it was turned into cheap apartments decades ago.

Lucky for you.

Hauling your box of sake up the outside stairs to the second floor, you fumble with your key until you can wedge the rickety door open and slip inside.

The first apartment door down the hall is wide open. _Your_ door.

"Aw, hell no," you mutter. You shoulder inside and drop the box on the old kitchen table inside. "Goddammit.... MORT!"

A clatter comes from your tiny bathroom. A tousled greasy head poked out, eyes red-rimmed and blurry. "Honey?" your neighbour slurs. "Izzat you?"

"No," you growl, seizing a handful of the man's wrinkled plaid shirt and hauling him out of the bathroom. "It's _not_."

"You came back to me....."

"No, I didn't!"

Shoving him only somewhat gently out the door, you seize his shoulders and point him down the hall.

"Mort, your place is the second door from the stairs. The _second_ one!" You give him a little shove. "Jesus, this is the third time. Go home and sleep it off."

He shambles off, trailing his hand on the wall and mumbling. You feel bad enough for him to make sure he at least manages to get into his apartment before slamming your door.

Or trying. It bounces off the frame without latching, broken. Damn it. He must have forced it open to get inside.

A flash of anger twists in your stomach before fizzling out ineffectually. Mort was harmless, if a nuisance. The last couple times he'd mistaken which apartment was his, you'd been home to gently point him away. He always apologized and was a nice enough neighbour otherwise. Whatever demons the poor guy was drinking to avoid, it didn't make him dangerous, just.... kinda sad and pathetic.

But he'd probably left a mess in your bathroom you needed to deal with.

Sighing, you go do that. You'd talk to Ike about the broken door at work later. Hopefully, he was better at building maintenance than he was at running a bar.

After, you remember the box of sake on your kitchen table. You have some time before you need to be downstairs for your shift. It couldn't hurt to try some of it right now.

You don't have the proper cup for sake in your apartment. Or any proper drink glasses, really, so you dig a juice glass out of the cupboard and crack the seal on one of the bottles. The liquid that pours out is a muddy yellow brown.

You really don't think sake is supposed to be brown. You're pretty sure it's actually clear, like vodka. But you're not an expert, and the last time you actually tried it was many years and another lifetime ago.

So, swirling the glass and grimacing at the pungent woody odor, you take a mouthful.

And immediately about face to spit it into the sink.

" _AAUUGH!_ Phlech!!"

It is _rancid_. Acidic and sharp, and _really fucking strong._ Like you just licked the inside of a rotting scotch barrel.

It takes every ounce of self control not to pour the whole thing down the drain, and instead tip what's left in your glass back into the bottle and cap it. You try to look for a brewing date on the label, but the only English writing just lists alcohol volume.

Danny _had_ said it was pretty old. Did sake go bad? Wine didn't usually, as long as it was properly sealed. Most alcohol aged fairly well, but there were always exceptions.

You were going to have to do some research.

You put the bottle in your fridge before getting ready for your shift. Maybe it would taste better chilled. You'd give it another shot later.

On your way downstairs to the bar, you remember the writing on your Nice Cream wrapper. Good things indeed, you think sarcastically, the taste of rotting wood still in your teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: sake is NOT supposed to be aged for more than six months, and turns from clear to brown when it is old. It's also been made in steel barrels instead of wood casks since pretty much the 70s, so what Ro's got there is old as BALLS.


	4. Good things come in loud packages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how happy I am to finally add Papyrus to the character tags. This adding people as they show up is nerve wracking.
> 
> Also
> 
> Did you know I have a tumblr?
> 
> And that I sometimes post fanart?
> 
> And that it's <http://thaylepo.tumblr.com>
> 
> Come and like, ask me questions and stuff.

There is nothing, in the long history of the universe, that is more annoying than being woken up by a phone.

Especially a phone that, during your last drunken sleepover, your darling best friend decided would be super hilarious to change the ringtone of, so you were actually yanked out of slumber by a muffled voice screaming "Bitch I'm _FABULOUS_!" in your ear.

"Uuuuuuuugh....." you roll over, feeling blindly for the source of the offending noise and finally digging your phone out from between the mattress and the wall. You drop it on your pillow and blindly jab at the screen until you manage to answer it.

"Whaaaaaaaaaat."

"Are you still asleep? Didn't you have work today?" Cam sounds out of breath, as if she's jogging at this very minute, the masochist.

"No," you grunt. You're not dealing with people today. You're just not.

"I'm pretty sure you said you did."

"I'm calling in sick."

" _Did_ you call in sick, or did you just not show up?"

You mumble something like "yer not m'mother" and bury your face in the pillow.

"Ro."

"Mmph."

" _Ro_."

" _Mmmph!_ "

"Ro, get up."

"No," you muffle into the pillow. "I live here now."

There's a pause. "I don't even know what to say to that," she admits.

You 'mmph' again in triumph.

"Come on, Ro. Call Danny and tell him you just slept in. Then come meet me for lunch, okay?"

You lift your head at that. "Cookies?"

Cam sighs. "Yes. Cookies. Now get your ass out of bed and come tell me why you're such a sadsack this morning."

"Fine. Bitch."

"You're welcome."

You hang up on her. But only because she was going to do it first, and it made you feel better.

She has a point though. You can't afford to miss too many hours a week. Rent might be cheap on this place, but so is minimum wage in this town apparently.

You get a whiff of yourself as you roll over. Ugh. Falling asleep in your work shirt was a terrible, terrible idea. It still smells like stale beer and cigarettes from downstairs. You're going to have to burn your sheets now.

Or wash them. Whatever.

You send Danny a half-assed excuse via text before dragging yourself into the bathroom for a shower. Time to be a goddamn adult.

 _Again_.

 

* * *

 

Cam not only has cookies for you, but a BLT bagel sandwich and coffee. You forgive all her transgressions immediately.

"So what's got you in grouchy bear mode today?" She asks as you devour your spoils. "You're not hungover, are you?"

You shake your head as you chew. God, bacon is amazing. Everything should be made with bacon forever.

It's too bad bacon couldn't fix your broken door. Or have gotten rid of the swarm of college assholes that descended on the bar last night and got so shitfaced they refused to leave at closing time. But right this particular minute, it was definitely improving your life.

"Just a bad morning," you tell Cam. "Thanks though. For the coffee and stuff." And for kicking your ass out of bed, but you're not going to say it.

She beams, tucking into a sandwich that looks like it was made with about five pounds of chicken. "Oh! Did I tell you? I think I met your fish friend."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head back on the bench, letting sunlight hit your face. The sun is not normally your friend, but it's supposed to help with shit like this. So you let it.

"Yeah, at the gym. I didn't get to ask her name, but she had me and another guy sit on her barbell so she could deadlift us. She kept calling us punks and said biggest weights they had there were 'for little baby wussies'."

A snicker escapes you. Undyne and Alphys hadn't been back to the bar since that first time, which was a shame. You'd take them over the college idiots any day. "Sounds like the same fish."

"Next time, I'm gonna ask her if she'll spot me."

That kind of makes you smile. With food in your stomach and coffee in your hand, you feel a lot better than you did waking up, and you think you might even forgive the sun for being such a bright asshole for once.

Cam elbows you out of your pleasant stupor. "Hey, look who it is."

Reluctantly you lift your head to look where she's pointing. A familiar short blue-hoodied figure is swiftly rolling its way down the path toward you.

Rolling, because he's standing on a freaking skateboard. Swiftly, because he's being pulled along by half a dozen dogs on leashes.

A splorfle escapes you. Shit. That's adorable.

The skeleton is snoozing on his feet, at least until the little entourage passes your bench and the dogs become very interested in the remains of your lunches. They crowd around you with wet noses and wagging tails, pulling Sans right along behind them.

The skateboard bumps gently to a stop against your foot. Sans opens one eye and yawns, which stupidly reminds you of a round bony kitten.

"oh hey, pal," he grins, scratching his skull with a bony hand. "just keep runnin' into ya, don't i?"

You snicker. "Hey, Sans."

Cam looks at you curiously and mouths ' _sans?_ '. You shrug. She shrugs back, still waiting for an answer. An excited beagle jumps up on her lap, sniffing at her sandwich.

"What's up with all the dogs?" you ask Sans. Unlike the one from yesterday, these dogs seem more or less normal. You think.

"little business venture. you know people will pay you like twenty bucks just to walk their dog for 'em? it's crazy."

"Crazy," you agree.

"Are you getting out of the hotdog business then?" Cam asks, feeding the beagle some of her chicken.

"nah. just a little something on the side."

"Sure you can handle them all?" The dogs are milling around the bench in all directions, and you actually can't believe the two huskies and the St Bernard aren't straight up yanking him right off his slippers. He doesn't seem to be having a problem holding onto them though.

He winks at you, tapping the skateboard with his heel. "i'm makin' it work for me."

Cam clears her throat, effect only slightly ruined by the beagle licking her face. "I hate to interrupt," she says, "but one of your dogs is, uh, doing it's business there."

She points her thumb behind the bench where the St. Bernard is dropping a turd.

The skeleton nods slowly. "yep. so it is."

"So....?"

"so....?"

"So are you going to pick it up?"

That ever-present grin slips, just a bit. "am i gonna  _what_."

"Pick. It up." Cam fixes him a look over the wiggling beagle on her lap.

Sans flicks his pupils to you, raising a browbone (how the _fuck_ ) as if to ask if she was being serious.

You shrug. "It's the rules."

Cam holds the plastic bag from your sandwiches out to him. "We all share the park," she says firmly.

The look on Sans' face is fucking priceless. He gingerly takes the bag between thumb and forefinger, like he's still not convinced this isn't a joke.

Cam watches him, eyebrow raised, until he finally dismounts his skateboard and trudges behind the bench. You toss your sandwich wrapper in the trash, shoving your remaining cookie in your pocket while Cam disentangles herself from the beagle.

"See you later....  _Sans~_ " she calls sweetly.

There's an indistinct mutter from behind the bench. "yeah, see ya, _pal_."

Now you let yourself laugh. Cam elbows you again as you walk together, wiggling her eyebrows.

"On a first name basis with the hotdog skeleton, hmm?"

Taking a long drag of coffee, you fix her a look. "Shut yer mouth."

"You know, he's got a really nice voice. Don't you think?"

"The mouth. Shut it."

She makes a sound of glee. You're forced to pinch her.

 

* * *

 

Danny forgives you for skipping out this morning when you give him your leftover cookie. He even lets you ignore customers in favour of filling orders for the rest of the day.

"Got more orders right now than customers anyway," he sighs, looking around the mostly empty store.

"Orders technically are customers," you remind him.

"Well, yeah...."

It's the usual stuff, a couple seasonal wine boxes and some personal home deliveries, and one massive order with only "GB" written on the form. That one has you pulling some nice stuff off the shelves, good scotches and multiple rum and vodka flavours, along with all the reliable barstock standards. You assume it's for an establishment outside of town, because it sure as hell isn't for Ike's place, and you're actually kind of jealous.

Maybe you could slip something fun onto Ike's next order form, like Midori or even, be still your heart, some actual frikkin' vermouth for once.

Or maybe you should find whatever bar all this stuff is going to and work there instead.

While you're entertaining your impossible daydreams of martinis that are not dry as a salt lick, the door crashes open with a rattle of glass and someone shrieks "HUMANS!" at the top of their freaking lungs.

There's a gasp and a shatter of glass on the other side of the store, and you end up performing a quick hot potato dance to avoid doing the same to a bottle of peppermint schnapps. Once it's safely cradled in your arms like a newborn puppy, you peek over the shelf to see what the heck just walked in.

Yep. It's a monster. You owe yourself ten bucks.

It's another skeleton monster, even. Except if Sans is a sleepy little kitten, this guy is a goddamn saber-toothed tiger. He's easily tall enough to have to stoop a little under the shop's door, and despite the spindly look his bare bones give him, he has the upper body proportions of a comic book super hero.

The effect is a little ruined by the fact that he's wearing neon green hotpants and a bright pink crop top with "SEXY KITTY" written in rhinestones on it, but hell. A six and a half foot walking skeleton can wear whatever the fuck he wants.

The monster looks around the store, at Danny standing slack-jawed behind the counter and the two other customers who seemed to have dropped a bottle of wine in their shock. The shop door swings shut behind him.

"SORRY," he says, just as loudly, just as enthusiastically. As if he's used to just throwing that out there.

Then he clears his throat, drawing himself up into a pose that really, really emphasizes how freaking tall he is. "HUMANS," he bellows again cheerfully. "I, THE GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT PAPYRUS...." he flips his tattered red scarf back like a cape, "AM THROWING A DINNER PARTY!"

His announcement is met with a confused silence.

"AND I REQUIRE ASSISTANCE." Thoughtfully, he adds, "PLEASE."

Danny is still just.... standing there. You ball up an order form and lob it at his head. It seems to snap him out of it.

"W-what do you want?" he stammers. You facepalm.

The Great Papyrus' eye sockets widen happily. His face looks like most of his expressions can have 'happily' added to them, you think. He bounds two steps to the checkout and wraps a long bony arm around Danny, yanking him over the counter in a crushing side hug.

"I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED, CASH REGISTER HUMAN!" he hollers. "FIRSTLY, THIS _IS_ THE STORE WHERE ONE CAN PURCHASE ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES OF ALL SORTS AND SUNDRIES, CORRECT?"

"T-this is the liquor store, yeah."

"EXCELLENT! YOU'RE ALREADY SO HELPFUL!"

You're not laughing. You swear to god.

"HUMAN," his voice is grave and still very loud, "HUMAN, I AM ATTEMPTING A CULINARY CHALLENGE OF SUCH EXQUISITE GREATNESS, SUCH IMPECCABLE TALENT, IT MAY VERY WELL BE THE MAKINGS OF NOODLY LEGEND! AND FOR THIS, I MUST PROCURE...." he whips a piece of paper out from somewhere and squints at it, ".... COG-NACK."

There's a sound like a deflating balloon. That sound is you. You need a minute.

"You mean... cognac?" Danny wheezes.

The skeleton frowns, peering even more intently at his list. "NO, NO I'M PRETTY SURE IT SAYS 'COG-NACK'. I COPIED IT DOWN EXACTLY."

Poor Danny. You straighten from where you're hunched over between shelves and pull yourself together.

"It's over here," you call.

Papyrus perks right up, releasing your boss to collapse in a heap behind the counter and sailing down the aisle towards you. He executes a flying leap over a display rack and skids to a neat stop in front of you, without even rattling the wine case.

Unfortunately, he's so tall his elbow clips one of the high-shelf scotches and you nearly choke (dear god it's an 18-year Glenlivet) as it topples to the floor. But before you can even process the reaction needed to dive after it, Papyrus turns smoothly and neatly catches it in one hand.

"OOPS!" he says cheerfully, placing it back with label carefully turned outward. "HOW CLUMSY OF ME."

You swear you hear Danny whimper.

"Nice catch," you breathe.

"OF COURSE! I AM MULTI-TALENTED, NATURALLY." Papyrus beams, puffing out his chest. "NOW," he mumble-shouts, hunching over to scan the shelves intently, "WHICH OF THESE IS THE BOOZY NECTAR OF THE COG-NACK TREE THAT I SEEK?"

You're going to pee yourself holding this in, you swear to god. "Here," you say instead, biting your cheek and taking an amber bottle down. "You want one of the cheaper ones if it's for a recipe."

"NONSENSE! SHOULD I NOT STRIVE FOR ABSOLUTE PERFECTION WHEN SELECTING INGREDIENTS? THAT IS HOW LEGENDS ARE _MADE_ , HUMAN!"

Fuck, he is precious. "Cooking it is going to take out most of the flavour anyway," you tell him. "This one is the best for that. Trust me."

"HM...." he studies the bottle with scrutiny. There are no little lights in his sockets, like Sans', you realize. He snatches the bottle from your hand and holds it up in triumph. "VERY WELL! HUMAN, I WILL TRUST YOUR EXPERTISE. AND WHAT'S MORE...."

A bony arm pins you to his ribcage with the strength of a steel girder. Oh. Ow. This isn't as funny when it's happening to you.

The Great Papyrus doesn't seem to notice. "I INVITE YOU TO COME PARTAKE OF MY CULINARY MASTERPIECE! IN APPRECIATION FOR YOUR AWESOME ASSISTANCE JUST NOW!"

"Thanks?" you croak.

"NYEH HEH! NATURALLY!" He releases you and smacks you heartily on the back, almost sending you face-first into the wine rack. "I EXPECT YOU'LL BE AMAZED! ASTOUNDED! STUPEFIED BY MY GENEROSITY! ONLY PLEASE DON'T BE _TOO_ STUPEFIED, THAT SOUNDS PAINFUL."

"Right."

"EXCELLENT!" He vaults back to the counter, literally throwing a handful of money at Danny like a cartoon character. "DINNER IS AT SIX SHARP! REMEMBER, LATENESS IS THE PLAGUE OF THE MODERN AGE, HUMAN!"

He flies out the door with a resounding crash, followed by the gentle ping of the door chime.

"OH I ALMOST FORGOT." His head sticks back in, donning a pair of star-shaped sunglasses. "IT'S THE HOUSE WITH THE SKELETON FLAG. TOODLES."

Crash.

Ping.

Oh, Cam is going to want to hear about this.

You make your way over to a still shell-shocked Danny. "You okay there?" you ask, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Uh..." he shakes himself. "Yeah. Geez. What the heck _was_ that?"

"The Great Papyrus. Obviously," you snicker, scooping up the money the skeleton had thrown.

"Jesus _Christ_. He nearly broke the damn rack. He scared off like three other customers!"

You shrug. "Eh, so what. It's not like they've got anywhere else to buy crappy wine."

He mutters something about getting a mop and stalks off. Oh right, the broken wine bottle. Meh.

You ring up the cognac after the fact, since purchase records and all that. Papyrus left way more than enough to pay for it and the broken wine, so you start up a store credit account for him. You don't charge him for the wine though, that hadn't been his fault.

Danny is in a sour mood for the rest of your shift. You finish boxing up the orders, but even when five o'clock rolls around there still isn't much action. That's the middle of the week for you, though.

"Want to close up early today?" you ask him hopefully.

He looks at you suspiciously. "Why? You're not actually thinking of going to dinner with that monster guy, are you?"

You squint. "You make it sound like a date or something."

"Please," he rolls his eyes like a schoolgirl, "inviting a store employee for dinner? 'Ooh, thanks for helping me, pretty lady! Let me repay you!' It's the most obvious thing ever."

"You need to lay off the rom-coms, Dan-o."

"I'm serious. Don't be stupid, Ro."

Your mood flickers dangerously. You're not sure why, but you feel insulted on behalf of the loud skeleton. "Wow, Danny. I was actually thinking you could use the extra hour to deliver those orders tonight. But hey, if you're just gonna be a dick, never mind."

"Huh. That's not a bad idea."

Danny might not be a lot of things, but he _is_ nicely gullible. It's pretty useful.

An hour early, you help load the orders into the back of his truck before taking off. You're still kind of pissed at him, but you don't want to get into it. Employees who skip morning shifts shouldn't throw stones at their bosses.

What you are going to do, however, is go have dinner.

You drive around the painfully small, singular suburb that is Little Ebbot's only residential area. After nearly half an hour, you do what you should have done first and call Cam.

"I need to find a house with a skeleton flag," you say when she picks up.

There's a pause. "What?"

"A skeleton flag. I need to find it."

" _Why?_ "

You kind of want to tell her the whole story, but your stomach is beginning to complain. You've only eaten a BLT and some cookies today, after all.

"Do you know where it is or not?"

"I know a house with a pirate flag. Like, the skull and crossbones. What—"

"That must be it. Where?"

"Up the mountain a ways. Ro, why—"

Of course. You're an idiot. Most monsters didn't actually live down in the town, but in sort of their own community on the slopes of Mt. Ebbot. You'd never had a reason to go there before.

"Thanks, Cam."

"Ro, why are you going to a skeleton house?"

You realize an opportunity to mess with her. It can't be wasted. "I have a date," you tell her innocently.

" _What?!_ "

"Bye, Cam."

" _Hang on a minut—_ "

You hang up. You know she's going to call back, and you swipe it right to voice mail, grinning smugly. Let her chew on that all night, you think with satisfaction.

There's a distinct separation between the town and the mountain. Nothing like a chainlink fence or a checkpoint or anything that makes you think it's an actual border, but the town just sort of stops about a quarter mile before the first building is visible, nestled at the base of the mountain like a welcome sign.

You glance at the neat, two-story building as you drive by. A painted sign above the door reads "GRILLBY'S".

That's got to be the monster bar Undyne and Alphys mentioned. You are definitely coming back here.

The road begins to wind a little, more buildings appearing as you go. Some look like normal houses. Others are all kinds of weird; a giant jelly-mold of softly glowing stained glass, a squat hollowed tree you're positive couldn't have grown naturally with an ornate front porch attached to it.... even an igloo-looking thing made out of blocks of dirt.

What you don't see is very many monsters. But the houses are so far apart, so tucked back from the street, that the whole place just feels calm and solitary.

You regret never coming here before. This is awesome.

The house you're looking for jumps out at you when you round a bend about halfway up the mountain road. It's a cute split level that looks like it was designed by a couple of kids who wanted a tree fort, and you immediately approve. The Jolly Roger waves cheerfully from a second floor balcony.

For a split second, you do actually question the wisdom of showing up at a strange person's house for dinner. Even if you've technically been invited. But then you hear Danny's stupid remarks in your brain again, and your mind is made up.

Who gives a shit. You got asked to dinner by a skeleton. And you're already here.

Grabbing the bottle of wine you'd snagged before leaving the store (since it's polite to bring something to a dinner party, and your mother raised you well enough to know that ten-dollar wine is always an acceptable house warming gift), you yank your parking brake up with finality and march towards the front door of the house.

There's no doorbell. So you knock.

And wait.

You hear muted voices inside, but no one answers. So you knock again, louder.

And wait.

Finally, the door swings open and you are greeted with a familiar grinning skull. Just... not the one you are expecting.

"hey pal," Sans squints up at you, rocking back on his slippers. "fancy seeing you here."

 


	5. Acceptable dinner party behaviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought this chapter to the death, I did. It got away and now I have two chapters.
> 
> So the next one will be up soon ;)
> 
> (Also I realized I've been spelling Ebott wrong this entire time. I'ma go back and fix that eventually.)

You blink at the short skeleton. "This... is your house?"

"last i checked, yep."

You wonder if maybe you made a mistake. Is there more than one house with a skeleton flag? Is that a custom for skeleton houses? You have no idea. How do you even ask that.

"SANS? WHO IS IT?"

Annnnnd there's the skeleton you were expecting. Still ridiculously loud, ridiculously tall, and wearing a bright yellow apron, stained with pasta sauce, that reads "HOT STUFF COMIN' THRU". His empty sockets go wide when he sees you.

"HUMAN!" he shrieks, flinging a sauce-covered wooden spoon into the stoop-side shrubbery and yanking you into a crushing embrace. He lifts you straight off the ground and squeezes you to his chest like a stuffed animal. "YOU CAME!"

"Hi?" you gasp.

Papyrus holds you out at arms length, your feet still dangling in the air. "SANS!" he shouts happily. "SANS, THIS IS THE HUMAN WHO HELPED ME PROCURE MY SECRET, ULTIMATE DINNER INGREDIENT! WHY, WITHOUT THEM, THIS MEAL WOULD BE A SAD SHADOW OF UNREALIZED POSSIBILITY!"

"don't you mean 'pastability', bro."

"NO I DON'T. _HUMAN_ ," he makes a choking sound and you worry he might actually start crying. "HUMAN, YOUR HUNGER FOR FRIENDSHIP MUST BE GREAT INDEED. I'M SO HAPPY YOU'VE COME TO TASTE IT!"

"Uh, me too," you pat his arm as well as you can with your own pinned to your sides. "Can you put me down please?"

"OF COURSE!"

He sets you delicately on your feet with a hearty pat on your shoulders. You resist the urge to clutch your sides and fail. _Ow_. Good lord this skeleton is strong.

Papyrus wipes at a tear (how the fuuuuuuuck), leaving a streak of sauce on his cheek. "PLEASE EXCUSE ME HUMAN, I HAVE TO CHECK ON THE ROSÉ. SANS, SHOW OUR GUEST INSIDE."

He dashes off into the house, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway with the shorter, quieter skeleton.

"so," he says.

"So," you say.

"you got a little...." he gestures to the front of your shirt, now smeared with pasta sauce.

"Oh." You brush at it and shrug. It's a dark t-shirt. It probably won't stain. "So, you guys are...."

"brothers."

"Ah." Rubbing your abused ribs again, you ask, "Does he invite random people over for dinner a lot?"

"all the time."

Aha. So you weren't special. Suck it, Danny.

"you're the first one who's shown up so far tho," Sans adds, scratching the back of his skull. It makes an oddly musical rasp. "s'made him real happy. hey," he moves out of the doorway, "why don't you come on in."

You do, shutting the door behind you and kicking off your shoes. Polite guest mode, activate. "So.... how's the dog walking business?" you ask him.

He sucks air through his teeth. "kinda went to shit."

You snort a laugh at that. Sans seems to appreciate it; the grin on his skeleton face relaxes a bit. Somehow. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets.

"welp, come on. might as well introduce you to the gang."

The 'gang'. Well that sounds not at all intimidating. You follow the short skeleton towards the sounds of other voices in the house, wondering exactly what you've wandered into.

That question is answered when you walk into the dining room and a seven-foot-tall fish woman jumps to her feet, points a clawed finger in your direction, and shouts, "YOU!"

Then she hurls herself across the room at you, and you are once again squeezed in a merciless body lock.

"You punk! I didn't know you were coming!" she yells happily.

"Oh god why," you wheeze.

"Alphie! Check out who it is!"

"Oh!" The little dinosaur sitting at the table beams at you, pushing her glasses up. "H-hello again!"

Undyne drops you to the carpet and yanks you into a headlock. "You nerd, you shoulda said you were friends with Papyrus! You were holdin' out on us!"

You make a garbled noise, slapping ineffectually at her muscular arm. She tilts her head, curious.

"What's that, punk?"

Sans taps her elbow with a bony knuckle. "she's lookin' a little blue there, undyne."

"Pfft! Whatta weenie!" But she lets go of your head, and you suck in air.

"Thanks," you croak at Sans.

"no prob."

Alphys scurries over between you and her enthusiastic girlfriend. "O-oh! You brought a-another human drink! Undyne, look."

"You brought more booze?" Undyne's yellow eye glitters. Her eyepatch, you notice, has a pirate sticker on it for this occasion.

You hold out the wine bottle like a shield. "Uh, yeah. It's nothing special, just—"

"Awesome!" she snatches the bottle from your hands. "PAPS!" she hollers. "YOU GOT ANY OF THOSE FANCY CUPS?"

"I HAVE LOTS," came the answering yell from the kitchen. "BE SPECIFIC!"

"THE ONES WITH THE LONG SKINNY LEG!"

"OF COURSE! COME GET THEM!"

"GREAT!"

She plucks up her girlfriend and dashes out of the room. Alphys' stubby yellow tail thwaps against the kitchen doorframe as they disappear.

"so," Sans shrugs, "i guess you already know everyone."

You think he sounds a tad suspicious, but maybe you're just projecting. You slide into a chair to rest your poor squished body. "It's been a weird kind of week," you admit.

"heh."

Something flutters down into your hair and you look up. There's a ceiling fan over the table. It's not turning at the moment, which is good, since it's been covered in tinsel.

What.

That's not the only.... _odd_ decorating choice, you see as you look around. A bucket stuffed with umbrellas sits next to an enormous couch, stacked on its end in the corner. To make room for the table, you realize. This must actually be their living room.

It's very minimal, mostly empty space with carefully constructed pockets of clutter. There's a tea-tray of battered action figures sitting on top of the old television set, and lace doilies taped to the windows like snowflakes. A corkboard on the wall has dozens of leaves pinned to it, so many that they overlap, old ones crumbling under newer greener ones.

A small coffee table by the couch has a little dog bed on it, where a small rock is bundled up in a blanket and covered in chocolate chips. Okay.

There's a note taped to the floor by the TV reads "THIS SPOT RESERVED FOR SOCK".

 _What_.

You glance back in front of you and realize the tablecloth is actually a faded bed sheet with a barely-visible pattern of soccer balls. It also looks like Sans and Papyrus don't have more than two kitchen chairs, because they've also pulled up an ottoman, a recliner and a spinny desk chair to make enough seats.

You count five place settings and frown.

"Is someone else coming?" you ask Sans.

"nah. there's five of us here, isn't there?"

"Yeah, but...."

The fish and her dinosaur come hurrying back in. They're both clutching champagne flutes. Eh, close enough, you suppose.

Undyne jams a claw into the wine cork and pops it out with ease. She grins at you.

"Did I do that right?"

You give her a thumbs up. You're still trying to get the rest of your breath back, and you really don't want to provoke her again without a nice sturdy bar counter between the two of you.

She pours enthusiastically, slopping all over the table sheet in the process. She and Alphys clink their glasses excitedly, and start sipping with exaggeration like they're both competing in a wine tasting event to the death.

"It's r-really good! Did you make it?"

"Uh, no, it's—"

"DINNER IS ENCROACHING!"

You jump like a foot in your seat. Papyrus sails out of the kitchen carrying four loaded plates. Three in his huge skeletal hands.... and one balanced on his head. He literally throws them at the table like frisbees and for a moment you see your untimely demise by pasta flashing towards you.

The plate stops in front of your face and drops neatly onto the table.

You blink.

"that was close," Sans remarks. "you were almost... _al dented_ there."

It might have been your imagination, but you swear you actually heard the rimshot.

"SANS DON'T YOU DARE."

"Boo!" Undyne agreed.

"I SLAVED OVER A FIERY STOVE TO BIRTH THIS MEAL AND MY OWN BROTHER CAN'T EVEN BEHAVE HIMSELF IN FRONT OF GUESTS."

"i refusili to be shamed like this."

"NO! DESIST!"

"impastable, bro. i'm spirali out of control here."

"IT'S NOT SPIRALI, IT'S PENNE. CAREFULLY MARINATED AND STEAMED TO THE PEAK OF CULINARY PERFECTION, THANKS TO MY SECRET INGREDIENT WHICH SHALL REMAIN UNSPOKEN!"

He looks at you. "AUDIBLE WINK."

You twitch what you hope is a smile.

"AND SO, WITHOUT FURTHER HESITATION, I PRESENT TO YOU: THE SPECIALTY OF THE GREAT MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS........ _PENNE ALLA COG-NACK_!"

Alphys claps politely. Undyne pounds the table and whistles. "Yeah! Good job, Paps!"

"Y-yes! Amazing!"

"way to go, bro."

Papyrus bows and blushes (how the.... you know what, fuck it), and plops himself down on the spinny chair, beaming radiantly.

"GO ON, MY FRIENDS! EAT!" he urges, perching eagerly at the edge of the table. "TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK."

You look at your plate. It's.... just pasta. A little splashed around from its airborne journey, but just normal-looking pasta in a orangish sauce. Still, it's not for you to decide what someone else should be proud of themselves for. Especially since your own cooking accomplishments begin and end with hotpockets.

Everyone is already digging in with more cheers of "Delicious!" and "S-so good!" and "pastably the best ever". Papyrus beams even brighter, clasping his hands in joy. You realize he doesn't have a plate in front of him.

That makes you... strangely nervous.

"You're not having any?" you ask him.

"OF COURSE NOT! THIS MEAL IS A MEAL OF FRIENDSHIP! ITS TASTY SUCCULENCE MUST ONLY GRACE THE PALATES OF OTHERS."

"Yeah, nerd! It's friendship succulence!"

Hoo boy. Well, you are hungry. And, you reason, even if you die of food poisoning at the table, Undyne probably knows how to get rid of the body. You scoop a forkful of pasta and shove it in your mouth.

And choke. Oh. _Wow_.

"Papyrus," you cough, swallowing with some difficulty. "How.... _much_ of that secret ingredient did you use?"

"THE WHOLE BOTTLE OF COURSE!"

Somehow, you are not surprised. Well, food is food. And with that much alcohol in it, the chances of food poisoning are pretty much sterilized.

You shrug and scoop up another mouthful. It's not so bad, now that you're expecting the taste. "You should be a chef," you tell Papyrus.

His eye sockets _sparkle_. It's both cute and viscerally disturbing.

"THAT'S ALWAYS BEEN MY GREATEST DREAM, HUMAN!" he gasps, leaping to his feet. "WELL, NO," he amends, "MY GREATEST DREAM USED TO BE JOINING THE ROYAL GUARD. BUT ALAS, IT WAS NOT TO BE. NYOO HOO!"

"Um, I'm sorry to hear that."

"NEVER FEAR, HUMAN! FOR I HAVE A NEW DREAM NOW!" He stands one impossibly long leg on the table in a triumphant pose. Tinsel flutters down from the ceiling fan, sparkling dramatically.

"TO SEEK THE LOST CULINARY KNOWLEDGE OF THE AGES, TO FACE THE PERILS OF SIMMERING REDUCTIONS, AND TO BROWN JUICY TENDERLOIN ON THE FLAMES OF MY PASSION!"

"YES!" Undyne hollers, slamming the table again.

"NO FORCE CAN STOP ME! AFTER ALL, HAVE WE NOT ALREADY REALIZED THE GREATEST DREAM EVER?"

"Say it, Paps!"

"WE'VE BRAVED THE TRAVAILS OF TRUE HARDSHIP, AND REACHED THE SURFACE!" Papyrus cries. "HERE WE STAND, IN OUR BRAND NEW HOUSE, EATING THE MOST DELICIOUS OF PASTA, SURROUNDED BY THE MOST DEAREST OF FRIENDS!"

"The best friends EVER!" Undyne roars.

"NO DREAM IS BEYOND OUR REACH!!"

"NGAAAAAAH!" Undyne hurls herself at the skeleton. "Come here you big nerd, it's FRIENDSHIP NOOGIE TIME!"

"UNDYNE NOT AT THE TABLE!"

Things devolve impressively quickly from there.

Remembering Undyne's spears and the holes in the bar floor you had to avoid explaining to Ike, you opt to duck under the table rather than stay in the open until the two settle down. You bring your plate with you.

Alphys has had the same idea, you see. Only she opted to save the wine flutes instead. She huddles next to the ottoman with her pudgy little tail tucked around her.

"T-they're like this all the time," she apologizes with a shaky smile. "B-b-best friends and all."

"You okay?" you ask her. Something smashes out there and you hope it was only a plate.

"Oh, yes. They j-just get s-so excited, it m-m-makes me n-nervous sometimes."

She gulps down the rest of her wine.

"they'll quiet down soon, alph."

You bang your head on table. You hadn't even noticed the skeleton join you in your soccer sheet fort. " _Jesus_."

"no, sans."

You don't dignify that with an answer, instead you fix him with a look and continue eating your booze-infused pasta. Sans gets comfy against a table leg that looks like it was broken and replaced with an old pool cue.

The table shakes violently as something, or someone, heavy is thrown onto it. Oh god, if it breaks, you are all going to be killed instantly. You shovel your food down faster. You are not dying on an empty stomach.

"S-so, how have you been?" Alphys asks.

"Me?" you ask with your mouth full.

"Y-yes. We haven't seen you s-since that night at the b-bar! We wanted to come back, we've just b-been so busy. B-but we told everyone how m-much fun we had!"

Her stutter is getting a little better. Maybe it's the soccer ball tablecloth. It's isolating, and comfortably nostalgic.

"I've been okay," you tell her. It's only been a week since then, not much has happened besides your current predicament, except... "Oh, hey, I actually managed to find some sake," you remember.

"You did?!"

"Yeah. It's... really gross though. I think it's gone bad."

"O-oh. That's t-too bad. Have you tried heating it?"

"Heating?"

"Yes! In the animes, they usually drink the sake warm! E-especially in the restaurants without chairs, where they sit around the hot pots, and t-they have the little c-cups and...."

"I never thought of that," you muse, scraping up the last of your food. "I'll try it."

The table sheet wiggles and a little white head pokes through. The small dog you met before pads under the table to sniff your plate. You let him have it.

"looks like it's safe to come out," Sans observed. He closes his eyes again and makes no move to get up.

"Yes, they s-seem to have finished," Alphys agrees.

It's not the worst dinner party you've ever been to, you think.


	6. The great escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be part of the last chapter, but I think it works better on its own. Enjoy your snas/reader alone in a dark room together ;)

Undyne and Papyrus have everything mostly cleaned up by the time the three of you emerge from hiding. Neither of them seems upset at the outcome of dinner, though. In fact they look even happier than before.

"A ROUSING SUCCESS," Papyrus enthuses, standing precariously on his spinny chair while he screws the ceiling fan back in place. "WE MUST DO THIS AGAIN SOON."

The table is packed away and Undyne puts the couch back in its place, lifting the massive thing like it's made of balsa wood. "We're not done yet, nerds! This party is going _all_ night!"

"Y-yes!" Alphys agrees happily, holding up a laptop and portable hard drive. "I brought all my new favourites!"

Her 'new favourites' turn out to be the sparkliest, most seizure-inducing Japanese animation you've ever watched, and you grew up on Sailor Moon, thank you very much. It's really not your thing anymore, but the three of them are absolutely riveted and insist on squishing you firmly into the couch to enjoy it with them.

 _"I will never surrender!"_ the poofy-haired giant eyeballs cry passionately, mouth movements out of sync with the dubbing. _"My heart cannot be defeated by evil or love!"_

"You tell them, Princess!" Undyne bellows.

Not even your cognac-soaked dinner had enough power to dull this to a manageable level. But lucky for you, the bottle of wine managed to survive the earlier friendship hurricane with about half its contents intact. You reclaim it, and it quickly becomes your salvation as the impossibly pink anime heroine falls deeper and deeper into glowing heart-filled existentialism.

During the third episode, when time starts to lose meaning, someone taps you on the head.

"hey," Sans whispers over the back of the couch. He slides down and crooks a finger at you to follow. Curiously, you get up (with some difficulty) and trail after him.

You both duck out of the room before he speaks. "if you wanted to escape," he says, "now's a pretty good time."

You look back into the living room at the others. They're all absolutely enraptured by the laptop screen, even Papyrus. Undyne is chewing intently on a throw pillow, clutching both Alphys and the skeleton in her powerful arms. Yes, you would like to escape now.

There's just one problem: the wine bottle in your hand is nearly empty. That had not been the smartest idea, you realize.

"I.... think I've had too much of this to drive now," you say hesitantly.

Sans blinks. "oh yeah. that's a thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I can call a cab or something."

"nah, forget it. i got another tv, if you wanna watch something else."

A burst of very loud, very enthusiastic rainbow sparkles erupts from the laptop in the next room. "That would be great," you tell him.

You're not sure where you expected him to take you. A den or rec room, maybe. Instead he leads you upstairs into what is obviously his bedroom.

"make yourself comfy," he tells you, not bothering to turn on the lights.

Even without them, you can see the room is even more spartan than downstairs. A bed against the wall and a desk with a tiny brick of a TV on it are the only furniture (plus an actual VCR, you haven't seen one in like a decade). Aside from a small pile of dirty laundry, there's none of the organized clutter the living room had. No action figures, no window doilies, not a single leaf pinned to the wall. There isn't even a poster.

Nothing in this room has any kind of personal touch. For a minute, you're reminded uncomfortably of your own crappy apartment.

Sans digs under the bed and pulls out a water-stained box full of VHS tapes. Almost none of them have labels, and those that do are shrivelled and illegible.

"what do ya wanna watch?"

"You pick. You probably know what they all are anyway."

He shrugs and pulls out one particularly battered tape, and slips it into the VCR. Sans grabs a remote and hits play, fast forwarding through several minutes of static snow.

"tape's in pretty bad shape," he apologizes.

"So I see."

You sit down uneasily on the edge of his bed, swirling the wine bottle and debating briefly if you should finish it off, or wait out the buzz so you can drive home sooner. Ah, fuck it. You take another long swig from the bottle, courting that giddy wine-fuzziness.

Sans seems to notice your discomfort. "whats'a matter, pal?"

You frown, attempting to articulate exactly what has you on edge. It's not him.... not exactly. It's....

"You're being.... friendly," you accuse.

"i'm always friendly. haven't i been friendly?"

You raise an eyebrow, looking pointedly around the room. "No offence, but you almost didn't even let me in your house earlier."

"ah," he scratches at his skull again. "well. like i said. you're the first human who's ever shown up at our place. kinda threw me."

"You don't look like someone who gets thrown very easily."

"nah? look at me, i'm skin and bones. _sans_ the skin."

God that's a fucking terrible joke, but you're laughing before you can stop yourself. Sans grins smugly, snickering when your wine-soaked ass starts hiccupping.

" _Jesus_ ," you giggle.

"nope. still sans."

"Oh my fuck."

The ice pretty much broken now, you scooch back on the bed until your back hits the wall and settle in more comfortably, while Sans continues to fast forward through endless static.

"here we go." The picture starts abruptly, black and white, very low-def, and still fuzzing a bit every few seconds. Sans scoots over to join you, leaving a comfortable space between you.

A man and a woman in 1940s clothes banter back and forth on the screen. The movie literally starts playing in the middle of their conversation.

Wow. It really is in rough shape.

 _"My, you're a mess, aren't you?_ " the woman smirks onscreen in a familiar, husky voice. _"I'm not very tall either,"_ the man answers smoothly. The last word is garbled by a skip of static.

"Wait, I know this movie," you blurt.

Sans turns his skull to look at you, the little white pupils in his eye sockets widening briefly. "you do? you've seen it before?"

"You're missing like, the first ten minutes, but yeah, it's.... ugh. It's one of the Bogie/Bacall films." You snap your fingers. "'The Big Sleep'! That's it," you say triumphantly, rather pleased with your wine-addled self.

He stares at you. "a what-what film?"

You point to the man onscreen. "Humphrey Bogart," you tell him, then to the woman, "and Lauren Bacall. Big-time Hollywood actors back in the forties."

"they're real people?"

That's a weird question. "Uh, yeah. They were, anyway. They're both dead now."

"that's...." he whistles quietly through his teeth. "wow. 'the big sleep'. had no idea."

The screen goes fuzzy again, and Sans hits fast forward to skip it. He seems to have memorized how long he needs to hold the button down for.

"Wait, how can you not know what movie this is?" you ask. "You've obviously watched this before."

Sans only shrugs. "it was like this when i found it. kinda missing some important bits, i guess."

He hits play again, and this time Bogie is chilling with a cute bookstore lady. If you recall, this is several minutes later in the film.

"No kidding."

"yeah. s'amazing what getting washed into a garbage dump under a mountain'll do to something."

Well if that doesn't just pull a metric ton of questions to the surface. You want to ask. You really do. You're not going to.

Instead you're about to suggest he try to find the full film online or something, when Humphrey Bogart pats the bookstore lady on the shoulder with a _"so long, pal"_ , and you straight up spit-take wine all over yourself.

"Oh my god!"

"what?" Sans looks alarmed.

"You! What he said! I can't believe I didn't realize it before." You wipe your mouth on your hand and point your finger right at his face, grinning wolfishly. "You talk just like Humphrey friggin' Bogart."

"ah. heh," he rubs the back of his skull sheepishly. "you got me, pal."

You're still cackling uncontrollably. "Shit, you must _really_ like this movie."

"it's up there, yeah."

Fuck that's cute, you think as he fast forwards through yet another blip of static. He's a _dork_.

You watch in silence for a while, trying to imagine piecing together the film's story from just these scattered, fuzzy clips. You tip back the last of the wine, feeling warm and strangely content.

"so," Sans says, setting the remote down and tucking his arms behind his head. "what's your story?"

"What d'you mean?"

"you know where _we_ came from, s'kinda obvious. but i get the feeling you ain't from around here either."

"What gave me away?"

"just a hunch. nothin' serious."

You blow a sigh through your teeth and sink back until only your head is still against the wall, chin on your chest. "Yeah. I moved here a couple months ago."

"where from?"

"Geez you're nosy, bonehead."

He taps his face. "can't be nosy when you don't got a nose."

You snerk. Fuck, your drunk ass really appreciates his dumb jokes. "It was a big city. Not like this place. Way, way more people. And noisy as hell."

"didn't like it, huh?"

You mull that over while the movie starts playing again. "No, it was fine. I just.... needed a change. Needed to be somewhere else."

"so you pick a town fulla monsters."

"Figured if I was gonna be bored, might as well be bored somewhere exciting," you shrug half-heartedly. Your eyelids feel heavy, but not quite enough that you can't keep them open.

Sans smirks at you, sockets scrunching in amusement. "we livin' up to your expectations yet?"

"I'm half drunk, watching an old Bogie film with a skeleton who thinks he's funny. You tell me."

He chuckles and settles back in, crossing his slippered feet. You wonder if he's finally gotten the read on you that he wanted. Now you kind of wish you could get one on him.

The movie plays on for a while, Bogie dodges bullets and Bacall mesmerizes the camera with her smokey, mysterious demeanour. They really did have great screen chemistry together, you think. No wonder they got together in real life.

"hey, lemme ask you something," Sans says suddenly.

"Hm?"

"what do you _really_ think of my bro?"

Oh hell. If this doesn't feel like a loaded question. "I like anyone who feeds me," you answer.

"you got low standards, pal. i like that."

"Pfft. I aim to please." You wobble the empty wine bottle on your stomach with one finger, only half-watching the movie now. "I like him," you declare suddenly. It surprises you, but you do. It's been a while since you felt more than lukewarm about anyone. "He's very.... sincere. It's kinda sweet."

Sans' smile turns distantly fond. "yeah, he's pretty great."

You elbow him a little drunkenly. " _You're_ a cagey bastard though."

"heh."

He tugs absently on his hoodie strings and sighs. It's the most morose you think you've seen him yet.

"you comin' tonight made him real happy," he says finally. "s'just.... ever since we got up here, it just really hurts to see him get excited about makin' a new friend, and then they don't show up, you know?"

You remember the table set with five seats, for only four monsters. That fifth place really had been for you. You feel strangely warm, and you're not sure it's the wine anymore.

"you asked why i was bein' so friendly. well, that's why. so... thanks."

You nod, understanding. "I'm glad I came," you say honestly. You mean it. Despite everything, it's been a fun night.

"one more thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"what's yer name, pal?"

You blink. Shit. You never did tell him, did you? "It's Rowan."

"you got a boat?" he asks without missing a beat.

"What?"

Sans grins. "cuz you're _rowin'_."

"Oh my god."

He wheezes with laughter. "oh, come on. that was good."

You swat at him with the back of your hand. "Just.... call me Ro."

"hey, don't get _oar_ -nery now."

"Shut up and watch your static."

"mm, whatever floats ya, bud."

"I changed my mind," you splerfle, trying desperately not to hiccup again. "You're not cagey. You're a pain in the ass."

"heh. you got me, pal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt like Sans was cribbing some of his speech patterns from old hollywood classics. I think he'd appreciate Bogie's laid back snark and charming wit.


	7. The walk of no shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My focus was pretty lousy this week but Cam's creator Beautiful_Infinity found a way to help me power through it and finish the chapter ^^
> 
> I also posted some [art of Ro and Sans](http://thaylepo.tumblr.com/tagged/on-the-rocks) up on the ol' [tumblr](http://thaylepo.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Check it out](http://thaylepo.tumblr.com)

"Bitch I'm _FABULOUS_! Bitch I'm _FABULOUS_!"

"Oh god why."

You bury your head in your pillow. It doesn't help, because the pillow feels stuffed with something bony and distinctly un-pillow-like.

"pal, i think your pants are tryin' to tell ya somethin'."

Oh god. _Why_.

Peeling your face off of Sans' hoodie, you grope in your pocket until the noise stops. Unfortunately, it stops because somehow you blindly managed to answer it.

_"Ro? Hello? You there? Hellooooooooo—"_

Jesus christ, it is too early after too much wine to be dealing with this.

You pull the phone out. "Cam. What the fuck. It's..." seven-thirty, according to your very blurry phone. "What the fuck," you repeat, rubbing your eyes.

She giggles. The bitch. "Just wanted to know how your _date_ went."

Your skeleton bedmate makes a noise and turns over. "whozzat?" he yawns.

There's a gasp on the other end. "Is that _Sans?_ "

"Cam..."

"Oh my god!"

"Cam."

"Oh my _gooooooo_ —"

You hang up.

Dropping the phone, you spend a cold minute just listening to the pounding in your head. Beside you, Sans shifts and scratches his head, the rasp of bone on bone making you wince.

"you're lookin' a little rough there," he observes, squinting at you.

"I've been worse." You run your tongue over your teeth and savour that morning-after-cheap-wine taste. Sitting up, you slowly blink your glued-together eyes open. Thank god, the curtains are closed. It could be worse.

"Sorry about the...." you gesture vaguely at Sans' hoodie, where your face left an impressive drool spot. "Guess I fell asleep."

"s'okay," he yawns into his sleeve again. "happens to the best of us."

You snort. Ow. Bad move. "You got any aspirin?"

"i dunno what that is."

Of course not. "Bathroom?"

"s'across the hall." Sans flops over again and makes a smacking noise, which you are absolutely certain he'd need lips for, but that is a mystery to be solved when you are less hungover.

Sliding off the bed, you pause only long enough to turn off the TV, which is still flickering with the end-of-tape static. Sans burrows into the warm spot you left behind and transforms into a lump of blue hoodie.

Heh. Cute.

The bathroom is right where he said it was, and you decide to torture yourself by flicking on the lights. From the urgent signals your bladder is sending, you don't have time to fumble around in the dark for the toilet.

There's just one problem.

There is no toilet.

You stand there blinking numbly in the fluorescent light. There's a tub and a shower, right where you'd expect them. But the rest of the bathroom is nothing but a couple shelves filled with toiletries and one entire wall taken up by a floor-to-ceiling mirror.

Oh, there is also a linen closet. Which to your _immense_ relief when you open it, is actually where the toilet is hidden. Tucked away out of sight like a dirty little secret.

God, monsters are _weird_.

You take your time, letting yourself get reacquainted with being upright again. This is a pretty mild morning-after, all things considered, but it does have the particular nastiness of a wine hangover. And it's been long enough since you've even had one that you let yourself wallow a little bit, massaging your temples while you enjoy the relief of peeing all that wine back out.

There's no sink, so you wash your hands under the tub faucet. It gives you a chance to peek at the weird bottles inside though, and they do not disappoint. MTT Brand Beauty Butter. Children's shampoo, for some unknown reason. Calcium Cream.

Bone Cologne.

You snerk.

Resisting the urge to take a sniff, you emerge from the bathroom in a slightly better state than you went in. Now is probably the time to sneak out and avoid further embarrassment, but for some reason you pause in the doorway to Sans' room.

The lump of blue hoodie is snoring softly, the lucky bastard. One skeletal foot is poking out of its slipper, and your eyes can't help being drawn to his small white bones against the dark bedspread.

He has toes. Little skeleton toes. You're not sure why this fascinates you but it does.

You shake your head and wince. You should not be creeping on your gracious host while he sleeps, even if he does snore like a drunk kitten. You should be shambling your hungover ass home before—

"OH! HUMAN!"

That. You sigh.

"Quiet voice please," you whisper, holding up a hand and grimacing. You have no idea how he snuck up on you, and the idea that he could be silent enough to do so is frankly terrifying.

Papyrus makes a confused face, which is way too adorable for you to handle right now, and peers past you. "OH," he says, only marginally quieter. "SANS IS STILL SLEEPING. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN. NOT TO WORRY, HUMAN, I HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL."

Before you can protest, he charges in and scoops his snoozing brother up under one arm. "COME, HUMAN!" he orders cheerfully. "I HAVE SOME BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI JUST READY TO BE FRIED UP."

Your stomach lurches a bit. "You.... really don't have to."

"I INSIST! IT'S BAD FORM TO LET A GUEST LEAVE HUNGRY."

'Breakfast spaghetti' doesn't sound like anything your body is going to accept right now, but the will to argue is just not there. So you obligingly follow him to the kitchen, where you assume you can at least get a glass of water.

Papyrus deposits his brother at the kitchen table, where he continues to snore away. Undyne is already there too, gulping down water straight from the faucet. She wipes her face and gives you a toothy shark grin.

"Hey punk."

You slide into the other kitchen chair. No water for you while _those_ teeth are guarding the sink. "Uh. Hey."

"Woulda invited you to come jogging with us, but you looked...." her grin sharpens, "... _cozy_."

Super. You manage a tight grimace. "Thanks anyway."

The fish woman cackles and crosses the kitchen just to slap you heartily across the back. Your whole brain sloshes against your skull like jello and your left eye starts to pound a nifty drumbeat.

"Punk, I like you. C'mere for a sec, I wanna say something."

She pulls you into the living room while you're still dazed and stands you in front of her, hands on your shoulders, looming over you with a serious expression on her noseless one-eyed face.

Holy shit she is intimidating.

"Thank you," she says sincerely.

"Gwuh?" you manage.

"Alphys told me you were real nice to her last night. And she had a lot of fun on our date cuz of you, too." Your shoulders are thumped in gratitude. "So thanks a whole bunch. It means a lot to me."

"Oh." What else are you supposed to say? "Um. It's no problem."

Undyne nods seriously. "I get it. You're just bein' you. But you keep that up, okay nerd? You may be a weenie, but you got a real big heart."

"Gee. Thanks." Well, she isn't crushing your ribs this time. You're not sure you want to add a collapsed lung to your current list of woes.

The fish woman drops herself on the couch like a load of bricks and sighs heavily. "We haven't been together that long, but I've liked her for a really long time," she says wistfully. "But Alphy, she's just never had much confidence in herself. It's taken so long to even get this far, and I...."

She blows air out of the gills on her neck. It sounds like a fart. "I _suck_ ," she declares vehemently. "I'm just not good at makin' her feel calm and safe. I try, but I just get carried away SO MUCH."

Your pounding head is issuing a direct challenge to your stomach and you're pretty sure you know what the response will be if you stay standing. You tentatively lower yourself beside her, wary of sudden movements from those powerful arms.

"That.... sucks," you say. "But um... I think she understands?"

Undyne looks up. "You think?"

Ugh. Why are you playing impromptu relationship coach with a hangover. Why is this happening. "Sure," you tell her. "You just.... gotta. Try your best."

Nailed it.

"Yeah." Undyne nods thoughtfully, getting more intense by the second. "Yeah! I just gotta try harder at sucking less! I'll be the calmest most understanding girlfriend EVER!" She grabs you in a headlock and noogies your hair, and you pray for death. "Nggggah! Thanks punk! I'll never forget this!"

You croak, "No problem," and hope you can't throw up with her arm around your throat.

She pulls you into a real hug, only slightly crushing, before hurtling herself over the back of the couch. "I gotta run. Don't you dare be a stranger," she spins around and makes serious eye contact. "I mean it, punk. I _better_ see you around. BYE PAPS!" she hollers.

"GOODBYE UNDYNE! I'LL SEE YOU LATER!" is the answering yell from the kitchen.

"FUCK YEAH YOU WILL!"

"SWEAR JAR!"

"SHIT! PUT IT ON MY TAB!"

The front door slams behind her. One of the action figures on the TV falls over. You know exactly how it feels.

Once the ringing in your head dies down from church bell back to cat toy levels, you shamble back into the kitchen for that glass of water. Turns out it's already waiting for you on the table, courtesy of Papyrus, who is at the stove happily flipping something in a cast iron pan.

"OH, HUMAN! THANK YOU FOR SEEING UNDYNE OUT WHILE I WAS BUSY WITH THIS FAST-BREAKING SCRUMPTIOUSNESS," he beams.

You make a non-committal sound, the glass already at your lips. Sweet, sweet hydration.

"SANS TOLD ME HUMANS NEED A BIG GLASS OF WATER EVERY SINGLE MORNING," Papyrus informs you. "PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR NOT KNOWING THIS IN ADVANCE."

The smaller skeleton's head lolls over on the table, little white lights peeking up at you from half-closed lids. "yeah. wouldn't want you dryin' up like a houseplant on us," he grins, winking sleepily.

You squint at him. He knows what's up. "Thanks, Papyrus," you tell his brother. "That's really sweet of you."

Sans picks something off the table. It's an uncooked pasta noodle, probably dropped there from dinner last night. He twirls it between his bony fingers.

" _penne_ for your thoughts?" he grins at you.

You flick the noodle out of his hand. It bounces off the far wall and rolls under the fridge.

There's a moment of silence, but then Sans starts making that quiet wheezing laugh and despite your sorry state, you can't keep it together anymore. Your head falls into your hands and a sound squeaks out of you like a deflating tire. Holy shit, what a day.

"WHAT IS GOING ON OVER THERE?"

"nothing bro. the human's just _spaghettin'_ my jokes."

"UGH. I AM NOT EVEN GOING TO DIGNIFY THAT WITH AN ANSWER, SANS." He bounces over with the frying pan and two plates. "HERE YOU ARE, YOU TWO," he says, cutting the pan's contents in half with the spatula and depositing it on your plates. "EAT UP!"

It's.... breakfast spaghetti. That pretty much says it all.

"You're not having any?" you ask Papyrus, as he scuttles cheerfully away.

"OF COURSE NOT."

Sigh. Of course not. You slice off a bit with your fork, which takes some effort, and put it in your mouth. And chew. And chew some more. And swallow, also with some effort.

Yep. It sure is breakfast spaghetti. And you sure aren't eating any more of it. You put the fork down.

Glancing over at Sans, who still hasn't lifted his head from the table, you see his plate is empty. You're positive he never even moved, let alone opened his mouth to take a bite. But all that's left is crispy spaghetti crumbs.

Something taps your leg. You squint, wondering if Sans is trying to play footsie under the table, or if his short-ass legs could even reach you. He just grins back and points down.

Oh. It's the dog again.

The fluffy white pooch puts its little paws on your leg and licks its chops at you. You shoot Sans a conspiratorial nod.

Papyrus bustles by with a steaming bowl of instant oatmeal, which is so normal it just confuses you more. "WOWIE!" he exclaims at your now-empty plate. "THAT WAS FAST! ARE YOU SUFFICIENTLY BREAKFASTED? DID YOU WANT MORE?"

"Noooooo thank you. I'm good."

"ALRIGHTY THEN!"

Having narrowly escaped your breakfast, you sip your water and stare at a spot on the table for a while. Papyrus is eating at the counter, since your butt is in one of their only two chairs. You wonder if you should move for him. You're kind of against moving right now.

"So Papyrus," you say instead. "Do you go jogging every morning?"

"EVERY MORNING AT THE CRACK OF DAWN," he replies proudly.

"Heh. You should meet my friend Cam."

"HMM...." Papyrus taps his spoon against his broad bony chin. "THIS 'CAM' FRIEND.... ARE THEY A SHORT HUMAN WITH SHINY BROWN HAIR?"

"Not that shor— wait, to you, yeah."

"WHO LIKES TO RUN IN CIRCLES IN THE PARK AND YELL ABOUT HOW MIGHTY THEY ARE?"

"I don't—"

"AND WEARS A LOT OF ORANGE FOR SOME REASON?"

"I—"

"AND THEIR NAME IS CAM?"

It takes a long, slow blink for that to sink in. "Um, yes?"

The skeleton gasps in delight, flinging his oatmeal into the air and plucking you up in both arms. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! MY NEW FRIEND IS ALREADY FRIENDS WITH MY OTHER FRIEND!" He chokes. "SANS, I'M SO GOOD AT THIS!"

"you sure are, bro."

"Oh god," you wheeze against his ribcage, your head spinning horribly. "Why."

 

* * *

 

Despite a lot of excited hugging and some very precarious swinging around in delight, you manage to escape the skeleton house unscathed and with your stomach contents intact. You even apologize again to Sans for passing out face-down on him.

"don't worry about it," he tells you, standing on the front stoop in his hoodie and slippers. Then he winks and adds, " _see ya, pal._ "

What a dork.

By the time you pull up next to your apartment, your stomach has mostly settled. You can thank the water, and the last remaining extra strength painkillers in your glove compartment. But your head is still pounding up a storm even after you've climbed the stairs, stumbled through your still-broken door and collapsed on your unmade bed.

You don't even bother changing out of the clothes you slept in. There is no work for you until this evening, and thanks to the plague of early risers in your life, it's not even ten o'clock yet.

The list of today's crimes against decency just keep growing.

Speaking of, those painkillers are just not kicking in. They may have expired, you realize. Like, forever ago. Peeling yourself off the bed, you trudge to the bathroom cabinet for a bottle of Tylenol.

Empty. Why is this your life.

Bonking your head against the doorframe fails to expel your pains, but it does let you see the box of old rancid sake still sitting on your table. Huh.

Oh, why not. Hair of the dog is about the only thing now that can save you. And Alphys said heating it up might even make it taste better.

For a good minute, you're tempted to just stick it in the microwave, but your sensibilities win out and you rig up an impromptu double-boiler out of a sauce pan and an old mug. It only takes a few minutes to heat the sake to just above room temperature, which is about as long as you're willing to wait.

It tastes.... not great. It's still awful. But now it's awful in a way that sort of makes you feel tough.

And maybe it's a placebo effect, but you even start feeling better enough to crack open the far window and climb out onto the fire escape (carefully, some of the rusted bolts are loose), and sip your improved sake while looking out over the parking lot.

"Oops! Sorry dear!" A splash of water on your head makes you look up and over at the iron landing above. "Did I get you?"

"It's fine, Mrs. Harris," you call back to your elderly upstairs neighbour, where's she's tending to the little garden she keeps on the third floor fire escape. "You want some sake?"

"No thank you, Rowan," she replies cheerfully. There's a wicked little gleam behind her cats eye spectacles. "You sure looked a sight coming home this morning. Did you get laid, dear?"

You choke on a mouthful of sake and laugh-cough it down. Goddamn, this lady.

"I got fed," you inform her.

"Oh," she twinkles. "Well that's even better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirty old lady neighbours are very important


	8. Sushi what I see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I think this is the longest between updates yet. Which is still really good for me. But you know, holidays and stuff are now, so chapters might continue to be a bit more than a week apart for a while. Enjoy some underwear humour in the meantime ^^
> 
> As always, [come poke me on the ol' tumblr](http://thaylepo.tumblr.com)

The next time you venture anywhere out of your comfort zone, it's one of _those_ days.

The kind where you wake up with a rock in your stomach making everything heavier than it should be, and you feel like you're held together with safety pins. There's no reason for it. It's just an irritating fact of your life.

Days like these, your only ambition is to binge on netflix and eat whatever food you happen to have on hand (which turns out to be half a bag of animal crackers, score). So when Cam literally shows up at your door and offers to buy you lunch in exchange for a shopping trip into the city, you are sorely tempted to shut the door in her face.

Unfortunately, your door is still broken even after a week of nagging your useless landlord-slash-boss to fix it. So there would have been no point on that end. Also Cam is your friend and you would eventually feel bad.

So that is why instead of being squirrelled up in your apartment abhorring human contact with netflix and stale crackers, you're trudging down the busy sidewalks of downtown Greater Ebott, banging your shoulders into fellow pedestrians foolish enough to think you'll move for them.

There is a slim silver lining to your inexplicably shitty day though, and that is getting to mess with Cam some more now that she has the opportunity to finally harangue you about your quote-unquote "date".

"Your phone has been dead since I called that morning," she points out, "so it's not like I've had the chance to properly grill you yet. Woman, _what happened?_ "

"Nothing." You hide a dreary smug face in your sorry-I-dragged-your-depressed-ass-out-of-bed triple shot mocha. Your phone has actually been missing all week, but she doesn't need to know that either.

"Nuh-uh. You don't just up and go to someone's house for a dinner date and wake up next to them, and say 'that's it'."

"Sometimes, that is exactly it."

"You're going to spill some deets eventually," she tells you with confidence. Probably because she knows she is literally the only person you have to spill them to.

"There are no 'deets', Cam." You mumble this around your coffee cup. The silver lining is already wearing out its welcome. "It wasn't even Sans who asked me to dinner anyway. It was Papyrus, and I am nine hundred percent positive he really just wanted to be friends."

She makes a noise of assent. "Yes. Okay. That is pretty much Papyrus for you. But still—"

"And that's another bone I got to pick with you, by the way. Thank you for telling me about that."

"Ro, I refuse to believe you didn't know Papyrus was my jogging buddy," Cam teases. "I talk about him all the time."

"And every time you completely failed to mention your jogging buddy was a six foot skeleton."

"A six foot skeleton, and a seven foot fish lady now," she beams proudly. "Undyne's started coming with us everyday. It's so great. I've never been able to run as fast or as far as I do with them! And if I start wobbling, one of them just picks me up and carries me along until I'm ready to run again. It's the best."

"Mm," you agree, face buried in your coffee.

"You should _see_ my thighs now, Ro. I could kill a man."

"I require a demonstration."

"Hah!"

Okay, you tell yourself, so it's still one of _those_ days, and even though you are basically on autopilot while everything below your neck feels made of lead, and even though Cam is being an insufferable ray of sunshine.... you'd probably be feeling even worse if you'd stayed inside with your crackers.

At least it's overcast today and the whole city looks bleak and grey, which is both relieving and strangely vindicating for you. It's nice when your inexplicable misery can just be part of the general atmosphere for once. No one questions feeling like shit on cold wet day.

Cam elbows you and you take back everything you just thought about feeling better. "Speaking of skeletons."

You look up. It takes a minutes for your brain to pick apart what she's pointing at from all of the moving bodies and flat shadowless details of the overcast city. It pops out at you in a spot of blue on a bus bench.

"You've got to be kidding," you murmur.

Cam follows gleefully as you elbow through a couple of old ladies for a better look. Sure enough, it's definitely Sans lounging there on the bench, eye sockets closed and arms behind his head.

You know, instead of some _other_ skeleton in a blue hoodie.

There's a nice little open space around him, where everyone going by on the sidewalk is simultaneously staring while giving his bench a wide berth. Guess the city folk here aren't as used to seeing monsters as you are in Little Ebott. But it also means there's no one else in the way as you scoot over behind the bench and tap him on the elbow.

You're kind of hoping he'll jump, because it would be pretty cute, but you're not exactly surprised when he doesn't. It doesn't seem like his style. He does tilt his head back to lazily open one eye at you, though. His relaxed grin tilts to one side when he recognizes you.

"pal," he says, blinking both eyes a couple times, "this is gettin' weird."

"You're telling me."

"i mean, small town, sure, makes sense to run into the same people. but all the way out here? you followin' me around or somethin'?"

"Afraid not," you tell him. You jerk your thumb at Cam beside you. "It's purely coincidence."

"Hi~" Cam chirps. She has that shit-eating type of grin on her face again.

"oh, hey. you're my bro's pal, right."

And also the one who made him pick up dog poop. You smirk inside at the memory. It doesn't quite reach your face.

"Yeah. But I didn't know he was your brother until Ro told me," Cam admits.

Sans tilts his head and a bony finger sticks out of his hoodie sleeve to point at his grinning face. "what, you don't see the family resemblance?"

"I wasn't just gonna assume all skeletons were related." She looks offended at the suggestion. You feel something twitch in your throat and realize it's the urge to chuckle. Huh.

"What are you doing 'all the way out here' anyway?" you ask Sans, resting your arms on the back of the bench. You haven't seen the skeleton since your impromptu sleepover, and it's kind of.... nice to run into him. You think anyway. 'Nice' is kind of subjective today.

"heh...." he rubs his skull, making that rasping sound you like so much. "fell asleep on the bus," he says sheepishly.

Cam snorts into her hand and doesn't even have the grace to turn it into a cough. You're not much better, though. That chuckle from before finally makes its way out, somewhat worse for the wear. But like usual, Sans seems to appreciate your amusement at his expense.

"Well," you tell him. "I can give you a ride back if you want."

Cam makes another noise, one you can't quite place. It might be surprise. Or disbelief. You ignore it.

"nah," Sans says after a second. He leans back on the bench like before. "hate to impose, y'know. i'll just catch some z's and wait for the next one."

You open your mouth, but Cam jumps in. "The bus between here and Little Ebott only runs twice a day," she says. "You're gonna be waiting for hours."

"ah." Sans taps thoughtfully at his elbow. "s'plains why it's taking so long, i guess."

You almost snicker, and actually feel it this time. "Come on," you say. "I'm already driving this one around today. Might as well."

"We're getting lunch," Cam chimes in. "My treat." She winks at you, not at all subtly.

"hmm..." He makes a show of stretching, with a few pops and clicks, before sliding off the bench and shuffling his feet in his pink slippers. "well when you put it that way."

"Great!" Cam hooks her arm with yours, steering you next to Sans. "But first, just one teensy stop we have to make."

 

* * *

 

"i dunno what these are," Sans flicks one of the lacy garments hanging off the side of your chair, "but i'm kinda disturbed by 'em."

"I'd be more disturbed if I needed to wear ones like these," you tell him.

Another bra is flung over the changing room door at you. "I heard that," Cam calls at you. "And for that, you can go find me one of that style with a wider band, please."

"Yes ma'am." You salute the closed door and, instead of taking the turquoise bra with you, you drop it on Sans' lap so he can examine it.

Of all the human things for a monster to be unfamiliar with, you guess you shouldn't be surprised it was this. And you also shouldn't have been surprised that the two store clerks had taken one look at Sans before disappearing into the back and refusing to come out. Hence why you were fetching items for Cam in their place.

You intend to make one fucking huge mess for them to clean up before you leave.

When you return, Sans is stretching the bra in both hands, two fingers hooked in the cup underwires. "this would make a pretty good slingshot," he says.

"It would," Cam agrees from inside the changing stall, "if it weren't a hundred and eighty dollars."

He lets go, the bra sailing across the store to thwap against a plastic mannequin torso. "that's a lotta bread for.... whatever these are."

You toss your handful of goods over the door for Cam. "Again, why I'm glad I don't really need them."

"Rub it in my face, you skinny bitch," your friend grumbles. "And that's the _cheap_ end of the bra spectrum. Dammit, Ro, I said a _wider_ band!"

"I don't know what that means," you admit.

"It means... oh, never mind. I'll get it myself."

That means you're off the hook. You celebrate by slingshotting one of the rejected bras into the mannequin and knocking it off the stand.

"nice," Sans comments.

"Thanks."

You sink down in your armchair again. At least a fancy store like this has comfy waiting furniture. The plush seat moulds around your ass in no time flat.

"so you humans.... what, wear these for fun? s'that why they're all lacy and shit?" Sans holds up another of Cam's discarded pile. It has more bows than Alphys' anime princess.

"Yeah. _Fun_ ," Cam snorts, coming out of the change room with her coat zipped up and, you'd hazard a guess, probably nothing underneath. "I just _love_ bra shopping. Good thing I go through them like paper towels."

She zeroes in on the ones she's looking for with a practiced eye and stomps back into the stall. You settle your ass more firmly into your chair.

"Not just for fun," you tell Sans. "It's a comfort thing too."

"and she's gotta wear 'em, because...."

"Of the great big boobs, yeah."

There's muffled "fuck you" from inside the changing room.

"uh huh," he says, mimicking you in his own plush armchair, except he's a lot smaller in it. "i guess you all aren't shaped as the same as you look."

That surprises you. "We all look alike to you?"

"at first, yeah. kinda."

No, it makes sense, when you think about it for a minute. Most of the monsters you've seen are radically different. As in, wouldn't normally be classed as the same species different. Compared to that, humans probably all look like cookie cutter people.

"i mean, some of you are easier to tell apart," Sans adds after a minute. Like he thinks he might have offended you. "like you, with the hair and stuff."

"Hey, I still don't recognize most of the people in town unless they've been in the bar more than once," you say, leaning your head back and squeezing your eyes shut against the bright-ass fluorescent store lights. "It's fine."

"yeah?"

"Yeah."

"ok. i don't feel so bad then." He fires off a pink leopard print abomination that sails over the mark and flops onto the floor. You snort.

"You should feel bad for that shot."

"yeah. pretty _bra-thetic_."

You make a sound like a hyena choking. "Are you kidding me."

"what, too _bra-baric_ for you?"

"Fuck."

"aw, you gotta loosen up, pal." He snaps the elastic and wiggles it at you.

You scoop up a pile of discarded D-cups and dump them on the skeleton. "You deserve this."

"heh. yeah." He wipes a non-existent tear away and makes no move to escape. Good. Your sides hurt now and you weren't even really laughing.

"Ro, can I get your help for a sec?" Cam calls sweetly.

Groaning, you pull your butt out of your comfy chair groove. Cam opens the dressing room door a crack for you to slip inside.

"Okay, so?" she asks, locking the door behind you.

"So.... what?" You flick your eyes over the emerald green thing she's got on. "About the bra? I don't know shit. I get mine out of a box."

"No, dummy." She jerks her head, motioning to outside the change room. " _Him_."

"Sans? What about him?"

"Rowan." Cam puts her hands on her hips, looking shirtless and admonishing. And really toned. Holy shit. "Seriously? Can you not see how obvious this is?"

"Again, it is obviously a bra."

"Ro."

"Cam."

"Ro."

You lock eyes in a standoff. Being the only one fully dressed gives you no advantage whatsoever.

"Look, did you actually need my help in here?"

"What, with the bra? God no. I already found the ones I want. Geez. I'm not _twelve_."

"Then put your fucking clothes on, woman."

You open the door, leaving Cam to yelp and scramble to preserve her dignity from the exactly zero other people in the store. The string of curses she throws as she gets dressed tell you she's not actually mad, but she's definitely not done with this topic. So does the smirk she gives you when she goes to coax one of the elusive store clerks out to ring up her purchase.

Glancing over at the skeleton in question, you see he's dozed off under the pile of bras, slippered feet dangling above the floor. He seems to have solved the harsh light problem by draping a shiny black satin number over his eye sockets.

That is finally all you can take. You have to bite your hand to keep your giggles from making you tear up. Jesus christ. You really didn't think you had it in you to actually laugh today, but when you glance over again and see him peeking at you coyly from beneath one voluminous bra cup, that familiar skeletal grin in place, it takes real effort not to fall right the fuck onto the floor in sheer hysteria.

It hurts. You can't breathe. Good fucking god. This is not how you wanted to die.

You can hear Sans' wheezy little laugh under the bras, like he's proud of himself. The shit.

 

* * *

 

Lunch is sushi, once you've escaped the bra store unscathed. You wanted something greasier that would continue shortening your expected life span, but Cam insists it's either this or she takes a bottle brush to your arteries herself. She's really all into this healthy lifestyle shit now.

You spite her by getting barbecued eel slathered in spicy mayo and a triple order of shrimp tempura. She insists it's still healthier.

"You sure you're not gonna eat?" Cam asks Sans, who is tentatively sipping at the bottle of soy sauce on the table. She sounds disappointed. The woman fucking loves buying people food.

"nah. i feel like alphys has told me about this," he says. He spears one of your unagi rolls on a chopstick and holds it up to sniff at. "isn't this the stuff that can kill you?"

"If you choke on it."

"You're thinking of blowfish," Cam tells him around a bite of silver dragon roll. "This is just regular, nonpoisonous raw fish."

"Speak for yourself. Mine's barbecued."

That roll never makes it back to your plate. You're normally territorial about your food, but in the case of a skeleton swiping sushi you find yourself unusually lenient. You even slide your plate of tempura a little closer to him, and while you never actually see him eat any of it, you're positive you counted more than you actually ate.

For some reason, that's funny. You have no idea why.

The middle-aged owner of the restaurant comes out of the back with the bill, and promptly throws an epic fangirl fit over Sans. He's apparently their first monster customer and she insists on getting pictures with him, much to the embarrassment of her teenage daughter who she has take them with her phone.

You chuckle at them between bites of a pancake thing stuffed with red bean paste. Until you catch Cam giving you That Look again. The one where she glances between you and the skeleton and waggles her eyebrows like caterpillars.

"I will leave your ass here." You point your pancake at her.

She snorts. "No you won't."

No, you won't. She doesn't have to be so smug about it though.

"Lemme say a thing."

"Cam."

"Ro," she says, "you've had your own personal thundercloud going all day today. But oh look, it's gone now. I wonder why."

"It's still there." You glower at her. She smiles sweetly and pats your cheek.

"Then it's raining somewhere else now, honey."

She gets up to pay the bill, leaving you with half a bean pancake and an extremely witty comeback you'll never get a chance to say. At least that is what you tell yourself.

Over by the counter, Sans holds up the soy sauce for the picture and gives the woman skeletal bunny ears right before it's taken. She's fucking _delighted_.

He makes it look so easy. This weird little skeleton monster has made you laugh on a day when that might as well have been like swimming the English Channel. You take a mental stock of yourself and admit, Cam might have the tiniest point.

That heavy feeling you woke up with is.... it's still there. Just now it feels a little easier to walk around with.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire chapter, sent it to Beautiful_Infinity to check and was ready to post it, but something didn't feel right. Then I realized I had an entire scene in a bra store and not a single bra pun.
> 
> It was a real.... _bra-vesty_.
> 
> 8D


	9. You better get pie for this crap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing process sometimes tends to be agonizing over a single paragraph for a week until all of a sudden a whole chapter just spills out in one night. Anyway, we get to add a couple new names to the tags now ;)
> 
> PS the christmas bonus chapter has been moved [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9197090/chapters/20865425)

"nice place," Sans comments, when the three of you are finally back on the street and heading for your car. "might take paps here."

Before you left, the restaurant owner had stuffed his hands full of coupons and soy sauce packets and told him to bring all his friends. You think by the time he does come back, she'll have his picture up on the wall surrounded in glitter.

"You think Undyne likes sushi?" Cam asks.

"She's a fish."

"Fish eat other fish."

"Good point." The place is at least pro-monster anyway. More than you can say for the bra store.

There's a parking ticket on your windshield, which you crumple up and toss into the gutter. Greater Ebott traffic control is free to try and find you at your unlisted address if they really want to.

Sans is peering into your car window, squinty-eyed. When he sees you looking at him, he just shrugs and opens the door.

"Home for you?" you ask Cam. "Or did you want to go back to town?"

"Yeah, got an essay due tomorrow." She makes a face, shoving her shopping bags in the backseat next to the skeleton.

You adjust the rearview mirror, getting a glimpse of Sans idly tapping his fingers on his leg. "Buckle up," you tell him.

"what?"

"Seatbelt. The thing beside you? Have you never been in a car before?"

He pulls the seatbelt out, flicking the metal clasp. "Just slid it in till it clicks," Cam says helpfully.

"huh. they don't got these on the bus."

"Yeah, well, if I rear end someone on the highway, it'll keep you from splatting through the windshield," you tell him.

"yikes."

"Exactly."

Road safety conditions met, you pull away from the curb to navigate through the downtown traffic. Greater Ebott, while boasting itself a city, is only maybe ten times bigger than Little Ebott and is still laughably tame compared to the city driving you're used to. It's not long before you've left it behind.

Cam lives on the outskirts of town, in an upscale area of lakefront properties and bigass acreages. It would be almost right between the two towns, except the way the lake is situated kind of forces you to drive most of the way around it to get there, and makes getting from her place to Little Ebott much easier than anywhere else.

It's still most of a forty minute drive, and since you are in a bit of a better mood you let her pick the music. Also because your phone is still MIA.

"You want to come in and hang out?" she asks, when you finally pull up in front of the white, colonial-style manor. "The Charlies have been asking about you."

"Last time I hung out at your house, your sister shaved my head."

"And it looks really good."

You manage a smile. Maybe you don't feel as low as you did earlier, but your energy is fading pretty fast. "Another time. I gotta drive shorty back there home, remember?" You jerk your thumb at the backseat.

"Oh yeah."

Sans has pretty much been quiet for the whole drive. You look over your shoulder to see if he's fallen asleep, but he's awake and staring out the window with half-lidded eyes, cheek in hand.

"nice house," he comments.

"I hate it," Cam says cheerfully, gathering up the spoils of her shopping trip. "Anyway, shotgun's yours, if you like."

"shot...gun?"

"Front seat," you supply.

"oh, sure." He unbuckles and goes to open the door, but pauses, peering up at the house. "uh, is it okay if...."

Cam snorts rudely. "Go ahead. If my mother sees you, it'll just give her something _else_ to clutch her pearls about besides me."

You frown. This might be one of your slow days, but after lunch and the bra store, you didn't think he was the type to be shy about being seen by humans. Most of the monsters in Little Ebott had a pretty fuck-it attitude about being in human spaces altogether.

Then again, maybe those are just the ones you've been exposed to.

Cams hugs you through your window. "See you later this week, ok? And charge your freakin' phone."

"Yes, boss."

She waves goodbye to Sans as he climbs in the front passenger seat. He puts the seatbelt on unprompted this time.

"What was that all about?" you can't help asking as you pull back around onto the long paved driveway.

He only shrugs. "usually, humans livin' in houses like that don't take too kindly to havin' monsters around. no big. just didn't want trouble."

You feel kind of defensive of Cam, even though you know some of her family is precisely like that. "Well they can suck it up."

"heh. sure wish they would."

"Cam is good. Her brother and sister too, but don't let them near you with makeup." You glance over at him. "Your hair is probably safe though."

He snickers, rubbing his skull. "wow, you two must be real good friends."

"She's pretty much my only friend in this town."

"geez. what am i, chopped wieners?"

You snort. He makes a fair point. You've eaten food at his house, after all. Your standards for friendship don't go too much higher. "My only human friend then."

"that's better. so, since we're pals.... i got a favour to ask."

"Only if it's on the way."

He scoots back in his seat, getting comfy. "don't worry, it is."

 

* * *

 

"The school?"

Okay yes, the school _is_ on the way back to town, so you technically can't complain. But you're going to.

"Don't tell me there's another PTA meeting." You swear you can taste chalky lemon in the back of your throat just at the mention of it.

"nah. just wanted to pick up a friend."

"If you are planning to steal a child, I charge gas money for getaway driving," you tell him, parking alongside the building. Unlike last time, it's actually pretty busy here. School must just be getting out, because there are a lot of parents picking up their kids.

Human kids, and monster kids too you realize. A lot of them are running around the playground, waiting for their parents or just burning energy. A handful of rabbits playing hopscotch, some anthropomorphic wolf kids who switch between running on two legs and four, and even one kid that looks made out of geometric gemstones, holding one end of a jump rope for two human girls with their hair in pigtails.

They're having fun. They don't care that the building is old and rundown, and they really don't care that half their playmates are a different species. They're just doing what kids do.

Sans taps you on the elbow. "this way," he says, jerking his head at the main doors. You lock your car and follow him inside.

He leads you down hallways that are mostly empty. Seems most of the kids are outside on the playground. The school isn't really that big, a couple stories of old brick building and maybe half a dozen classrooms. You feel like not all of them are even being used. A couple look dark and devoid of furniture.

Sans stops outside the classroom where the PTA meeting was held. He leans against the doorframe and knocks twice, bony knuckles echoing loudly.

"knock knock."

"Who is there?" a pleasant voice answers.

"apollo." You give him a questioning look. He puts a finger against his grinning teeth.

The voice chortles, much closer this time. "Apollo who?"

"apollo-gies for missin' work today, tori."

The door opens, and you instantly have to reassess every definition you ever had of the word "tall". The woman on the other side is at least a head higher than the doorframe, and looks like she could easily have gotten a star role in _The Neverending Story_. Despite the red eyes, the horns, the white fur and the freaking fangs, she manages to look nothing but sweet and kindly with half moon glasses perched on her snout.

"Oh, Sans," she croons, scooping the comparably tiny skeleton up in a hug that looks impossibly soft for someone so huge. "Thank goodness, I was getting quite concerned!"

"heh, yeah, sorry." He looks flustered when the enormous goat (dog? dragon?) lady sets him back on his slippers. "little mishap with the bus. won't happen again."

"Do not worry about that. I am only glad you're alright." She beams a wide smile down at you, and every trouble you've ever had melts like ice cream in the sun. "And who is this?"

Sans takes a step back to clap you on the shoulder, jarring you back to reality. "this is my pal, ro. ro, this is toriel. she runs the school and all that."

"Oh goodness," Toriel flutters, tucking one of her long ears back. "I am not the only one. But greetings!"

She holds her white-furred hand out to you, and you pick your jaw up off the floor long enough to shake it. She's extremely gentle, her fur is soft as duck down, and you can't decide if her hand feels more like a hand or a paw, or some undefinable mix of the two. Hard nails brush your wrist, but they're blunt and you briefly wonder if she files them down.

"Hi," you manage.

She beams even more, and the world is filled with sunshine. She smells like vanilla. "I did not know Sans had any human friends," she says happily. "I am so glad to meet you, my child."

Good lord, this woman is every grandmother in the entire world rolled into one huge white furred package of Chinese goat-dragon with fangs and a pretty paisley blouse. You have no idea how to process this at all.

Sans rocks back on his slippered heels. "ro's a great pal. she was givin' me a ride home, so i figured, why not stop by and give you an' frisk a lift?"

"Oh, that is so sweet." Toriel lets go of your hand. "That would be wonderful, if it is not too much trouble?"

You shake off whatever spell of awe she's put you under. "Um, yeah. Sure of course." Fuck, is your car even big enough for this woman? You really fucking hope so.

"Wonderful! Let me just grab a few things. Frisk is outside already." Toriel bustles rather quickly, for someone her size, to a desk in the corner and begins stuffing papers into her bag. You give Sans a side-eye, which he returns with a wink.

You might be having words with him later.

Despite the air of calm and control she seems to project, it's pretty clear Toriel is a tad disorganized. Or at least a little stressed. But she finally finds everything she's looking for and quickly locks up the classroom.

"Alright!" she says brightly. "Let us be off!"

Her mood is... well, most other days it would be infectious even to your dismal self, but today it's beginning to feel overwhelming. You don't want to be a bitch in front of Toriel though. Cam and Sans are one thing, but you think a look of disapproval from her might haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life. So you suck it up, and follow the two monsters back outside.

They chat animatedly like good friends, elbowing each other and chortling. You'd thought Sans was the epitome of chill, but even he looks a little brighter-eyed than before. Seems like he is not immune to the giant goat-lady's charming attitude either.

Outside, Toriel waves and calls out to a kid playing tag with a yellow lizard monster in a striped shirt. They break away, waving goodbye to their friend, and launch themselves into a full-body hug tackle.

At Sans.

"whoa there, kiddo." The skeleton sidesteps, almost too quickly, sending the dark-haired kid careening into Toriel's arms. They peek out of her blouse, giving Sans pretty much the same look you had earlier.

That isn't what really strikes you as odd though. It's that the kid is very obviously human, which you were not expecting.

"My goodness, my child!" Toriel chuckles. "Please be careful! I am too old to play as roughly as you children do."

She looks like she could probably lift your car onto one shoulder, but sure. Whatever.

Toriel holds the kid tenderly with both massive paw-hands and turns them to face you. "Frisk dear, this is a friend of Sans'. They will be taking us home today. Won't you say hello?"

You wave awkwardly at the kid. "Uh, hi there."

God, the sooner this is over, the sooner you can lock yourself in your apartment again. Not even Toriel's suffocating grandmotherly air can help you with this. You just don't do kids.

Frisk regards you seriously under long brown bangs, squinting up at your face. Then they drop their weight on one hip, and blow you a kiss.

Nope.

"So my car is over here," you say, turning on your heel and leaving whatever the hell that was in the dust. You can hear Sans wheezing his skeleton laugh behind you, and Toriel's quiet muffled chuckles.

If they are not following then you are driving off without them, you think, knowing full well that you won't.

 

* * *

 

It takes some finagling with the front passenger seat, but it turns out your car is big enough for Toriel. Barely. Luckily the school is not too far from the mountain, and unsurprisingly that's where she directs you to go.

You're treated to another brief tour of the amazing weirdness that is the monster neighbourhood, before Toriel steers you further up the road and off to an adorable cottage house that looks straight out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. You almost expect songbirds to explode out of the chimney as you roll to a stop.

"That is much faster than walking!" Toriel exclaims, sliding out of the seat with surprising elegance, given that she was crammed in there like a cat in a suitcase. "Do all cars smell so terrible, though?"

"Just the gas burning ones. They're uh, working on that."

"Oh, forgive me, that was rude." She blushes under her fur, and it's painfully charming. "Please, do come inside if you have time. We always have tea and pie after school."

Oh no. Your secret weakness. You're already getting out of the car before she's even done speaking.

"Pie sounds great."

"Wonderful!" Toriel says, delighted. She sends Frisk inside ahead and goes to start water for tea while you lock your car. On the way in, you catch Sans' eye and he winks at you again, giving you a lazy finger-gun.

"you're welcome," he says, sauntering off to the house.

Great. This damn skeleton has got you figured out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans had, in fact, never been in a car before and wanted to share the experience with his bff XD


	10. Tea with the queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter with both Sans and Toriel in the same room, and you know what that means ;)
> 
> And extra _long_ chapter

"So what is the deal with Frisk?" you ask quietly, kicking your shoes off in the quaint little entryway. There's a plaque next to a row of coat hooks, painted with a cartoon goat throwing a briefcase out the window, that reads "Leave Your Baggage Outside".

You snort.

Sans wipes his slippers on the mat. "mm, whatcha mean?"

You give him a look. He grins back and starts to head into the house, where you can hear Toriel happily bustling in the kitchen, and you stop him by grabbing his sleeve.

"Toriel's not gonna get in trouble, is she?"

You're not sure, but you think his eyelights flicker for a second. "what do you mean?" he asks again, wary this time.

"I mean, do Frisk's parents know they're here? Cuz I was seriously joking earlier about stealing a kid."

"oh." Sans just shrugs and relaxes again. "well we'd tell 'em, if we knew 'em. but if the kid knows where their folks are, they ain't talking."

You let go of his jacket. That was.... a little beyond what you were expecting. You really should have clarified this before being complicit in possible child abduction. "What?"

"frisk fell underground not too long before we all got out," Sans explains. He's not whispering, but his voice has dropped lower than normal. "and they decided to stick around after, i guess. they're kinda our unofficial ambassador now."

"They _fell_ underground?" You ask, disbelieving. "How the hell does that happen?"

"it's a real long story."

"No shit."

He glances towards the cozy looking den, where Frisk is spreading out their homework on the floor. "maybe don't mention this right now, hey? kid gets squirrelly when you try to ask about their folks. i dunno if they like to talk about them."

This was more than mildly concerning, and you are not someone who is usually even mildly concerned about other people's business. But you kind of can't help it in this case. Your mind is already brewing up scenarios in which this could be very, very bad.

If Sans senses a change in you, he doesn't mention it. He wanders off to go bother Toriel, leaving you alone to hover just outside the den. Frisk is lying on their stomach, papers spread all around them, chewing on the end of their pencil without a care in the world.

They look up at you as you drift closer. "Uh, hey," you say awkwardly. They tilt their head, examining you from behind dark lashes.

You have no idea what to think. You are in someone else's home, with a child that is clearly not theirs, but who also is perfectly at ease here. You're not a social worker, is this even your problem?

Something about Frisk's narrow gaze is a little unsettling, so you look around the room instead of at them. The den is spacious and high ceilinged for Toriel's sake probably, crammed with comfy-looking furniture, a stone fireplace and a shelf of well-worn books. It's neat and dusted and bursting with personality, from crocheted quilts on the couch to pictures on the mantlepiece.

Most of those pictures are of Frisk, with various other monsters including a few of Sans and Papyrus. Each one is bright and candid, little clips of treasured memories instead of the bland, posed photos you remember having done when you were a kid. There's some crayon artwork taped to the mantle, as if they'd run out of room on the fridge.

The whole house is probably just like this too. Very much Toriel, and clearly Frisk is a big part of life here.

Frisk pulls out a phone out of their bag and snaps a picture of you, nodding in satisfaction.

"What?" you ask them. "Do I have a pokemon on my head or something?"

"nah," a voice at your elbow says, "i think they just wanted a _pikachu_."

You jump a god damn foot in the air. Frisk dissolves into giggles.

Sans raises a browbone. "somethin' a- _mew_ -sing here, kid?"

Why is this happening. How does this skeleton know about pokemon. He doesn't even know what a seat belt is.

Frisk motions at Sans, who leans down where the kid is perched over their schoolwork. They cup their hands over where his ear would be and whisper, "shut your _meowth_."

Then they fall over laughing again.

Sans chuckles. "i think i just got owned."

"Oh," Toriel giggles, from the kitchen doorway, "how _onix_ -pected."

All three of them pretty much lose their shit over that. Frisk and Sans collapse on each other and Toriel struggles to hold the tray of teacups she's carrying.

You know what? Fuck it. The kid is happy here, and dammit, you came for pie.

"Oh, oh dear," Toriel chuckles, setting it down on the little glass coffee table. "How I have missed this. Frisk dear, will you leave some room in the den for our guests?"

Frisk gathers up their homework papers into a neater pile and pushes them under the table, hopping up onto the big plush couch. Toriel hands them a cup of hot chocolate heaped with marshmallows.

"Thank you, my child. Ro, Sans, please help yourselves. There is cream or sugar for the tea, if you like."

Sans looks up from the floor. "need any more help in there tori?"

She waves her soft white paws. "No no, please sit, both of you. I will be right back with the pie."

You're closer to the couch, so you sit down beside Frisk as they blow on their hot chocolate. They look up at you, wiggling their eyebrows.

"Keep those on your face, kid," you tell them. You pick up the china cup of black tea nearest you and begin destroying it with copious amounts of cream and sugar. When you sit back to take a sip, Sans is already seated on your other side, reclining on the couch arm with his own cup like he'd been there the whole time. And of course, you didn't even see him move from the floor.

Goddamn that's annoying. Do all monsters do that, you wonder, or just him.

"somethin' the matter, pal?" he asks, grinning like he knows perfectly well what's up.

You're trying to think of something to say to that, when there's a sound from the kitchen suspiciously like a propane torch. A smoke detector promptly starts going off.

"Oh, drat!" Toriel scoffs from inside. "Sans, would you mind—"

The noise stops. "whazzat, tori?"

"Oh, never mind. Thank you."

Frisk giggles quietly. They lean around you to point at Sans, making gestures with their hands. He grins, poking a bony hand out of his sleeve to sign back at them.

"i didn't do nothin', kid. i dunno what you're talking about."

Frisk pouts, their hands moving again. You squint.

"What is that?" you ask curiously. "It doesn't look like ASL."

Sans shakes his head, looking a little surprised that you noticed. "nah, it's monster handspeak. i've been teaching it to the kiddo."

That makes a lot of sense. There've got to be some monsters who can't communicate verbally, just like with humans. You don't think Frisk is deaf, since they clearly heard Toriel call to them on the playground, but they are obviously not a very vocal person. Sign language is probably just easier for them.

Frisk taps you excitedly. _'You sign?'_ they ask in ASL.

You nod. _'A little,'_ you sign back. "I uh, had a job a while back where it was useful to know some. Uh," you add sheepishly out loud, setting down your tea. "I don't know a lot, but I can ask if you're hurt, if you need the bathroom, or if you want a drink."

Your hands move as you speak. Frisk's face lights up with a big grin. They sign something you can't fully follow, but you're pretty sure it's along the lines of _'I'd get a drink with you anyday'_.

They also might have added _'beautiful'_ on the end.

Sans snorts and wheezes into his sleeve. You frown at the child who is wiggling their eyebrows at you again. This kid is trouble.

Frisk turns their phone to you, and you see the picture they took earlier. It's you, standing there looking around the room.... and Sans casually sneaking up beside you. _Aha_. So he _was_ doing it on purpose. The sneaky bastard.

"hey that reminds me," the skeleton beside you says. "you forgot your phone at my place."

"Oh, he– _heck_ ," You snap your fingers. "That's where I left it. In your b—, uh," you glance over at Frisk, who looks very interested. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. I'll get that back from you sometime."

"no prob."

"Pie is ready!" Toriel calls cheerfully, striding out with four plates of pie in her big fluffy hands. "Goodness, I don't know why I bought that horrible loud thing," she clucks, putting them down and settling herself in a big comfy chair next to the couch. "It is supposed to make the house safer, but all it does is make noise whenever I cook!"

"Maybe something is wrong with your oven?" you suggest. The pie looks fucking amazing, rich and golden and thick with dark berry filling and, god help you, clotted cream. It takes your full self control not to just snatch it up and shovel it in your mouth.

"Oh, I don't use the oven," Toriel chuckles. "Fire magic is so much better."

Well. That'd do it.

Frisk makes no effort to hold themselves back from their pie, so you figure you're good to go. The first bite literally has you closing your eyes in bliss, transported to a blueberry-flavoured utopia where everything is delicious and freshly baked. Your whole body is tingling from joy. You may have made an inappropriate sound.

"This is amazing," you tell the whole world in general.

Toriel beams. "Yes, is blueberry pie not wonderful? We did not have blueberries underground," she says, pouring herself some tea. "Or any berries at all. I think that is my favourite thing about the surface," she adds, grinning over her cup, "so many _pie_ -sibilities."

Sans splorfles into his tea. His plate is empty, and you've only had your first bite. No, screw it, you are savouring this pie. You will never have another pie this good again in your life. You've been ruined for pie forever.

"It's really good," you tell Toriel. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, my child. I am so happy to be able to relax with guests in my own home again," she sighs happily. "And to see friends, old and new. Please, tell me how you met Sans! I am sure it is a good story."

"I, um..." you glance over at the skeleton, who is reclining comfortably with his eyes closed. He is going to be of no help to you here. "We sort of just kept seeing each other around town, I guess? And then his brother had me over for dinner last week."

"Oh yes, of course," Toriel exclaims. "I am so sorry Frisk and I were unable to come to Papyrus' special housewarming party, Sans. Was he terribly disappointed?"

"aw, you know paps" Sand reassures her. "nothing keeps him down. you two have a good trip?"

"It was long," she says wearily, sipping her tea. "And dreadfully tedious. I have always thought politics were entirely too complicated and unnecessary, but they have risen to new heights since we've been gone. It is good to be back home, as I really must focus on the school for a while."

You swallow another mouthful of pie. "So, you run the school? For monsters and humans?"

Her whole face lights up. "Oh, yes! It has always been a dream of mine to teach children. But I must say, it has been frustratingly slow going. Did you know, that old school building had been shut down for decades before I bought it? Children from this town had to go all the way around the mountain to Greater Ebott for school! Some of them still do, every single day. What a miserable thing to make children do," she scoffs, clearly offended.

"But anyway," she goes on, before you can find another question, "it took months just to make the building safe to use. It was actually built with a substance in it that is poisonous to children! Can you believe it? Oh, but I am rambling. It has gone rather well since, despite how often I am called away. The teachers and the parents of the other children do a wonderful job of making sure things still run smoothly without me. I just wish I could devote all my time to it," she sighs again. "But other responsibilities must come first."

"just make sure not to work _too_ hard, tori." Sans lifts a bony eyelid to wink at her.

"Luckily, I have you to remind me of that, you little goblin," she chides him, winking back.

It's kind of weird to be in the same room with their comfortable dynamic. They've clearly known each other for a long time. You'd probably be more uncomfortable about it if you weren't content to keep filling your mouth with pie.

"My, I've talked so much about myself," Toriel says. "Please, tell me more about you, Ro. That is an interesting name, is it not?"

"It's actually Rowan," you tell her.

"Oh, like the tree! How lovely!"

Sans' eyes blink open. "you're a tree?"

You look at him. " _It's_ a tree, yeah."

"i was makin' boat puns at you, and you didn't even tell me you were actually a tree? some friend you are."

"Don't even try it," you say around your very last, wistful bite of pie. "I have literally heard them all."

He grins. You know that grin. "i'd really be going out on a _limb_ then, huh? might have to _branch_ out."

It's not fair. There's a child in the room. You can't swear at him.

"Sans," Toriel scolds him. " _Leaf_ our guest alone."

They both dissolve into giggles. You've been betrayed on both sides. You look at Frisk, silently inviting them to get a jab in, but they've settled back with their hot chocolate to watch the adults be silly.

Alright then. If you can't stop 'em.... beat 'em.

"You'll have to _root_ up something better than that," you deadpan. "And try not to get _stumped_. It can be over- _elming_ , but you _maple_ through, if you _stick_ with it. Just don't get _sappy_ and start _pining_ over it. That wood be _acorny_ , I'd have to _axe_ you to _cut it back_."

You take a big gulp of tea. There's awed silence. Toriel and Sans look absolutely gleeful.

"I wasn't kidding," you tell them, putting your empty cup down. "I grew up with this. You don't even know my full name, either."

Toriel leans forward. "Well, now you _must_ tell us," she says eagerly.

"yeah pal, don't hold out on me."

You set your mouth in a tight line. You shouldn't have mentioned it, these two are never going to give up now. There's a tug on your sleeve, and you look down into Frisk's adorable imploring brown eyes.

You sigh. "Oakes. Rowan _Oakes_."

There is silence once more. "magnificent," Sans chokes.

"Truly," Toriel agrees solemnly.

 

* * *

 

After more tea and another slice of pie, no doubt an apology for making fun of you, you leave Toriel's cozy house with your stomach happy and yet more pie to go.

"Please, do not worry about returning the container," Toriel insists, pressing it into your hands. "I have so many. It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Rowan." Her ruby eyes twinkle.

"You too," you tell her. "Thanks."

She gives you a hug before you go, which you are surprisingly okay with. She's just as warm and soft as she looks, and for a minute you wish you could just fall asleep safe and sound in her fur. But you don't. Because that would be really weird of you.

Frisk also gives you a hug, which is just as heart-warming. Until you have to pry their sneaky little hands off your butt.

"That kid is gonna end up in court," you tell Sans back at your car. "You want me to drop you off at home?"

He shuffles his slippers in the long grass beside the road. "eh. i should probably get to my hotdog stand before the dinner rush," he says.

"Hop in, then."

"cool."

He buckles up like a pro and, now that he knows the seat can move and recline from squeezing Toriel into your car, puts it all the way back so he can lie with his feet up on the dash. He is clearly a master of relaxation.

"So.... what else does Toriel do besides run the school?" you ask him, maneuvering the car to point back down the mountain.

"political stuff, mostly. sits in meetings with the king and makes sure us monsters are safe and happy up here without getting some human's pants in a twist. that sorta thing."

"Wow."

"yeah, tori's pretty great." He tucks his hands behind his head and grins, clearly enamoured. "you know she owns the whole mountain? bought it from the town right when we got out, so we could start settlin' in up here soon as possible."

"The whole _mountain_? Holy shit. Where'd she get that kinda of money?"

"guess it's easy if you're the queen."

Your brakes screech on a particularly dodgy patch of road. "The _what?_ "

"the queen. of monsters," he clarifies.

You stare at the road in front of you, mouth open. "I just had _tea_ with the fucking queen of monsters."

"yep."

"The fucking _queen_ of _monsters_ made me _pie_."

"sure did."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me she was the _queen of fucking monsters?!_ "

"you didn't tell me you were a tree."

"That's—!" you splutter. "Wait, are you and she.... are you some kind of monster prince or some shit?"

He wheezes. "pal, do i look like any kinda prince to you? nah, tori's just a good pal. she let me an' paps live with her up here till our house was done. and," he scratches his skull. "she's kinda the ex-queen, actually. another thing we prolly shouldn't mention ever."

"Jesus," you swear softly. "I just had tea and pie with the ex-queen of fucking monsters."

"you keep saying that."

"And she's a _dork_. She's even worse than you."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

"Ugh. _Thank_ you, this is probably the highlight of my entire life."

"no problem," he says, winking. "s'what friends do."

You chew that over as you reach the bottom of the mountain, where the road evens out into the smoother hills the town is built on. You coast past the building with 'GRILLBY'S' on the sign, but it looks empty.

"Is that place ever open?" you ask Sans.

"grillby's? yeah, he's just been doin' a few late renovations. it's a great place," he says wistfully, reminding you of how you feel about Toriel's pie. "his burgers are the best."

Yep. This place is definitely on your list now.

"So did you actually mean what you said before?" you ask suddenly.

He opens a lazy eye at you. "about the burgers."

"No. About us being friends."

Both eyes open. "why?"

You chew the inside of your cheek for a second. "Because you don't have to do that, you know. If you wanted to ask me for a favour, you can just, you know, _ask_."

He turns slowly, peering at you sideways with those little white pupils, confused and a little wary. Even on his weird, otherworldly skeleton face, it's the expression of someone being called on their bullshit.

"I'm a nice person," you deadpan. "I'll probably say yes."

Sans is quiet for a minute. "ok," he says finally.

"Good. I'm all for being friends, if you want. I just don't like being jerked around."

"i'll keep that in mind."

"Okay." You nod to the building up ahead. "That's my place there. You want me to take you right to the park?"

"nah, here's fine. i know a shortcut."

"Okay." You park in your usual spot behind the outside stairs. Sans climbs out (without putting your seat back, the jerk) and makes a show of exaggerated stretching.

"welp," he says, "i guess i'll see ya around."

You nod, foot on the steps. Then you turn back. "Hey," you call, "here's lookin' at you, kid."

Sans blinks, cocking his grin in confusion. "uh, what?"

"'Here's lookin' at you, kid.' It's like, Bogie's catchphrase? Oh shit, never mind, I forgot you haven't seen the rest of his movies." You shrug, disappointed. "He calls people 'kid' and 'sweetheart' a lot."

"ahh," understanding dawns, and his grin widens enough that his eye sockets scrunch. "well then, i'll see ya around, _sweetheart_." He shoots you the finger gun again.

"Now you've got it," you tell him, with a grin of your own.

He walks off with a little wave, and you head up into your apartment. You put Toriel's pie in the fridge like a holy, priceless relic before you collapse on your bed, moving the bag of animal crackers off to the side. You're exhausted, and now that you're lying down your personal beef with gravity today is not going to let you get up, but you feel.... surprisingly okay. It's been the best bad day you've had in a good long time.

You do get up after a minute, just to peek out the window to see if Sans is still on the street outside. He is nowhere in sight. And, you realize, he'd walked off in the exact _opposite_ direction as the park.

You snort. Somehow, this does not surprise you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to crib all those pokemon puns from the internet because I don't know nearly enough about pokemon to think of my own *hangs head* except the pikachu one! I dunno if anyone's come up with it before, but I totally got that one on my own.
> 
> About half the tree puns are mine tho. I originally had a whole different spiel for Ro written out in advance, but then I gave some of her puns to Sans and I pretty much had to rewrite it :/


	11. Hot off the grill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took some extra time and effort than usual. I blame my medication switch. But we get to add a very special new name to the tags, so cheers y'all ;)
> 
> (And a brand spanking new mature rating, cuz I guess if I'm writing about bars and alcohol that should probably be there or something)

The good thing about Sunday is that Ike's bar closes early. Even better, Ike takes that night off so you only have to deal with him for as long as it takes to tie your apron on.

The bad thing about Sunday is that it's boring as hell. The place is pretty much dead aside from the occasional lonely chump who'll stick around till the bitter end, leaving you to entertain yourself discreetly at the bar. Sometimes Cam comes by to keep you company, but usually you just screw around on your phone or experiment with the bar stock.

Tonight Cam has a date or whatever, and the highlight of your night so far has been kicking out some dumb kid who tried to order a beer with a laughingly bad fake ID (which you confiscated smugly, you had a collection going). Since you never did get your phone back from Sans, you're passing the time trying to invent decent cocktails without the benefit of any mixers besides coke and orange juice.

Sorry, orange _Tang_. Because apparently, Ike has decided he's too cheap to spring for concentrate anymore.

Just as you are making a very depressing attempt at a tequila sunrise, the front door creaks open ever so slightly and a furry purple arm pokes in, holding a cracked compact mirror. It slowly scans the empty room.

"What the hell," you say out loud.

The door swings fully open and two monsters hurry through, hands at their mouths in glee. They scurry up to the bar like goons in a cheesy detective movie.

"Like, awesome!" one of them stage whispers.

"We totally naaaailed it!" the other whoops.

Well then. Sunday night just got marginally more interesting.

"Nice work guys," you tell them with a half smile. Ever since the night Undyne and Alphys had shown up, a random monster or two has trickled through the door at least once a week. So far these two, a purple cat monster and a blonde alligator who'd probably stole all the neon the nineties had to offer, were the only ones who'd come back a second time.

They don't power drink like Undyne did, but they were more entertaining than the usual customers even with their weird pseudo-valley-girl speak. So you were glad they'd ignored Ike's withering comments to come back when you told them you'd have the place to yourself.

Maybe you should start giving monsters your work schedule on the sly more often.

"Like, you were totally not kidding." Bratty twists a blonde ringlet in her clawed green fingers.

"This place is tooooootally dead," Catty agrees.

"Mm." Tonight _is_ lacking even in the lonely chump department. More people might come to the bar on Sundays to watch the sports games.... if the decrepit television in the corner hadn't been broken since before you started working here. It's not a good sign for your busted door, you realize.

"Thanks for like, telling us to come?"

"Yeah, we like, have the whole place to ourselves now!"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Catty?"

"Are _you_ thinking what _I'm_ thinking, Bratty?"

They grin pointed teeth at each other before warbling in unison, "Party tiiiiiiime!"

They both burst into high pitched laughing.

You yawn. "Knock yourselves out. Want a Tequila Sunrise? Oh sorry, a _Tang_ -quila sunrise." You make a face at the abomination you'd created. "My bad."

They both stare intently at the gritty orange sludge with their big mascara crusted eyes. "Is it like, good?" Bratty asks.

You take a measured sip and consider. "It tastes like how a sunrise might look from prison."

They both giggle obnoxiously and shove each other playfully onto the stools. "Like, sure!" Catty beams.

"Yeah, hit us!"

"But only like, one tonight."

"Yeah, we're heading back out."

"Oh?" You try not to sound disappointed while you mix up more Tang. Here you thought you'd be entertained tonight. "You guys got a real party to get to?"

The two monster girls duck their heads together, whispering loudly as if they were trying deliberately to be overheard.

"Omigosh, should we tell her?"

"Omigosh, we _should?_ "

"Omigosh let's do it!"

"Tell me what," you ask, pretending to sound suspicious. You set their Prison Sunrises on the bar. There's no grenadine, so you'd added juice from the jar of cheap imitation maraschino cherries instead. It can't possibly make it taste worse.

"Grillby, like, got his liquor license!"

"Grillby's?" The familiar name has you leaning forward, all ears now. It'd be lying to say you hadn't thought about the monster bar several times since you'd driven Sans home last week.

"Totally!" Catty sings. "He's like, just opening back up tonight?"

"So we're celebrating!" Bratty enthuses.

"We're doing a pub crawl!"

You stare. After a beat, they both sing, "And this is the only other pub in town!"

Okay then. You don't think this place could even technically be considered a pub. It'd at least have to be a smidge classier. A big smidge.

"Well, you guys have fun," you say instead.

"You should come with us!" Bratty urges.

"Omg, Bratty! That's like, the best idea!"

"Omg Catty, I know!"

"Seriously?" you ask, mostly because you feel like they'll just keep going like that if you don't interrupt them.

"Totally! Grillby's is like, the best!"

"I mean like, we never went when it was underground?"

"And like, the MTT resort is nicer?"

"But it's totally the best on the surface!" they chime.

"I'll come," you tell them quickly. It's a no brainer, obviously. Check out literally the only other bar in town, or stay here and play with Tang for another sad two hours. "Just let me put the chairs up so it looks like I mopped in here."

"Like, awesome!"

"Omg, I'm so hyped!"

" _So_ hyped!"

You send them outside to wait. You don't bother making them pay for the travesty of a drink you'd served them. The glasses get left in the sink for Ike to find tomorrow morning.

While you lock up, you think of texting Cam to see if she'll ditch her date and come with you. Then you remember once more that you have no phone.

Welp. Guess you'll have to make it up to her later.

You look over at Bratty and Catty. "So, uh.... either of you ever been in a car before?"

 

* * *

 

Seatbelts are going to be the next big thing in monster fashion, you just know it. The two of them have not shut up about it even by the time you're pulling up to the base of the mountain and the wooden building marked 'GRILLBY'S'.

The minute you see it, the place feels immediately different. It's no longer a quiet and dark little structure in the shadow of Mount Ebott. Warm light pours out of the big frosted glass windows on either side of the door, and the painted sign glows from what you realize is several flickering lanterns hung underneath it. It looks friendly and inviting, a cozy little tavern on a lonely road, bright and lively in the stark emptiness that separated the town from the mountain.

There's a wide patch of gravel around part of the building, probably infill from setting the foundation, so you pull in there to park off the road. It's not even dark yet, but the light coming from the windows makes everything out here look that much more dim and gray.

"Wow," you murmur. You haven't even gone inside yet.

"Yeah," Bratty agrees. "The surface sure is like, pretty and stuff."

"And stuff," Catty echoes. They both have their heads poking out each rear window, staring off in opposite directions. Up the mountain backlit by the setting sun, and down into the lights of Little Ebott below.

You wait. You don't want to interrupt them.

"Well, that's like, enough sightseeing!"

"Yeah! Let's party!"

They both hop out and squeal around to the front of the bar. You linger behind to lock your car before following.

It isn't until your hand is on the door that you wonder if you're even allowed here. There aren't any signs forbidding humans.... but there were no signs barring monsters around town either, and that sure didn't mean everyone was happy to have them. Was it the same the other way around?

You could hear noise through the door, the buzz of indistinct conversation and muted laughter, the clink of glasses, the shuffling of chairs. Everything you'd expect to hear in a place like this, and it makes it seem colder outside despite the balmy spring weather. You stand flanked with warm yellow light on either side, staring at the dark wooden door.

This isn't like being invited into Sans or Toriel's home. You might not be welcome here.

The door under your hand opens in and Bratty sticks her lipsticked snout through. "Oh like, there you are! Hurry up!"

Okay then. You suppose that counts as an invitation. It's enough for you to swallow your insecurity and follow her inside, anyway.

And once you do, you know you will never regret it.

The inside of Grillby's is everything that the outside promised, and more. Warm and golden, polished wood and dark red leather, smelling of smoke and a charcoal grill and just enough grease to make your mouth water. It's full of monsters, more than you'd ever seen in once place before. Dogs, rabbits, birds, a fish guy, a monster who was nothing but a mouth with teeth, a man made of slime, and an extremely muscular horse person.

You aren't really looking at the monsters though. Your eyes are tracing over the room itself, the hardwood floors and panelled oak walls, sturdy support columns and carefully interlocked beams in the ceiling. Padded booths along both walls, tables scattered around a big stone fireplace smack in the centre of the room, an old chrome plated jukebox tucked in the corner by a pool table, and the bar. The _bar_. You can barely see it across the crowded room, but there are so many shelves of bottles on the wall behind it that it makes your knees weak.

The fireplace is unlit, but it's so warm anyway that stepping inside is like being wrapped in a blanket by a smoky campfire. You feel the tension from before slowly uncoil and melt away. More lanterns hang everywhere, casting that wonderful, warm, even firelight over the whole room.

Every inch is meticulously polished, finished, fit together with intent and purpose. The entire place hadn't just been built, it had been _crafted_ with care and skill and love, like it was meant to be. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

You're not crying. You're not.

"You're like, crying a little," Catty whispers. Loudly.

"Something in my eye," you grunt. You think it might be hope. Maybe even joy.

Both your elbows are grabbed and you are pulled along by the cat and alligator monsters. "Come on, silly!" Bratty croons. "You like, have to meet Grillby!"

"He's like, so cool!"

"Well not, like, _cool_ , haha!"

"Haha! Not cool at all!"

They cart you right up to the bar, shoving their way between a pink bird and the muscly horse man (who you now see has a long eel-like tail instead of legs, because why not). Your presence doesn't go unnoticed. A whole lot of heads turn to follow you, conversations briefly trailing off as you pass them. One of the dogs pushes back its jacket hood to give you a sniff as you're hauled by.

No one makes a fuss though. Or even so much as a dirty look. They just seem surprised, and even curious. The horse man actually winks at you.

You feel much more at ease than you did outside. The feel of this place is seeping into your bones, like it had been waiting for you to find it.

"Grillbyyyyyyy~!" Catty singsongs right next to your ear, slapping her paw on the smooth, polished bar surface. "Come over here and meet our friend!"

"Yeah, she's like the coolest!"

"She's so human!"

" _Sooo_ human!" They both erupt into raucous giggles.

You want to plant your face on the bar counter. Not because you're embarrassed, but because it's so smooth and shiny and mahogany. You want to feel it on your cheek. You almost have the urge to lick it.

So you nearly miss it when the person on the other side of the bar turns around, and for a minute all you see is a vest and bowtie, polishing a glass, before it suddenly makes so much sense why it's so warm in here without the fireplace going.

The bartender _is_ a fire, and he fits in so well with the warm orange and yellow ambience that it's no wonder you didn't notice him before. It's not really even what you notice first, to be honest. It's his uniform, the classic bartender's black vest and bowtie over a crisp white shirt complete with sleeve garters and little white apron. He looks like he just walked out of an old western saloon, or off the set of a classic noir film, regardless of the fact that his whole body is made of flickering orange flame.

"Oh my god you are precious," you whisper, hands pressed to your cheeks, only half aware you've spoken out loud.

The fire cocks his head at you. He's got a pair of oval glasses on his face. It's not entirely clear if he even has a face, but he's wearing glasses on it.

"I'm staring," you say. "I'm sorry," you add, making no effort to stop. The fire, Grillby obviously, makes a soft crackling sound from somewhere, and you realize it's a chuckle.

"Grillby says it's alright," the bird on Catty's right explains for you. "He wants to know if you'd like anything."

You want to live here, is what you want. If you died right this minute, you can't imagine heaven being any different.

"Ooooh! Yeah, order something!" Catty slaps the bar in excitement again.

"Totally! Do it!" Bratty joins in.

Welp, if there was anyone left in the room who wasn't staring, they sure are now. Grillby, bless his fiery heart, just waits patiently for you to answer.

"Um....." you fumble, mentally scrambling. There is almost every kind of alcohol you've ever seen on the wall behind him, and some you know can't be from any human distillery. ".... Tequila Sunrise?" you decide, because it's the first thing that pops into mind.

"Ooooooooooh," your two monster groupies coo in anticipation. You start to feel like you're in some bizarre reality show.

Grillby tilts his head the other way. He looks over his shoulder at the shelves of alcohol, then back at you. He puts down the glass he's holding. Fiery fingers tap pensively on the counter.

"He doesn't know what that is," the bird says helpfully.

Oh. Fuck. Of course he doesn't. You are positive to your core that he could make any monster drink that ever existed, but it was stupid to assume he could have learned every possible drink invented by humans in the bare few months monsters have been on the surface.

"Sorry," you say quickly. "Shit, sorry. It's fine. I...."

Bratty slaps you on the back, and you nearly swallow your tongue. "You should show him!"

"Yeah, you're a bartender! She's a bartender," Catty explains cheerfully.

Jesus. "I'm.... no," you stutter eloquently. You're a bartender in a crappy dive that smells like decades old puke and cigarettes. You don't work _here_.

"Show him!" Bratty is shaking you now. You think she's trying to be encouraging. Or maybe she's trying to kill you.

"Yeah, do it!"

"Make us a human drink!"

"Make us _lots_ of human drinks!" Catty cheers belligerently.

You glance imploringly at Grillby, whether asking for permission or begging for help, you're not entirely sure. He crosses his arms thoughtfully, tapping a slender fiery finger to his chin. Then he steps to the side, gesturing with one hand to the shelves behind him, as if to say 'please, show me'.

There are eyes behind his glasses, barely discernible, but you can see them crinkling in amusement. You're smiling before you even realize it.

"Okay," you say, standing up.

It's official. You've died, and this is literally heaven.

 

* * *

 

When Sans walks into Grillby's about an hour later, he's expecting it to be busy. It's re-opening night after all, and it's not like there's a whole lot else going on up here anyway.

The last thing he fucking expects is to see _you_ behind the bar, pouring a line of shot glasses precariously balanced on Aaron's taut muscular stomach, with just about every monster he knows up here cheering with rapt attention and Grillby standing to one side, thoughtfully observing the whole thing.

"What the hell?" he says out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of imagine this chapter is what falling in love feels like ;D


	12. A change in perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter took a super long time to figure out and I finally realized it was cuz I was trying to force it. I'm going in a different direction with this story and I hope you're all on board with me! I'm very excited.

"Hold it steady Aaron," you were saying, as Sans made his way through the crowd at the bar.

Normally when he walked into Grillby's, everyone immediately noticed. He was _Sans_. Hey Sans, how you doin' buddy? You're the life of the party, Sansy! Pay your tab, Sans.

This time? No one even noticed until he wedged himself between two people at the bar just to get a better look at what the fresh heck was going on.

The fresh heck was exactly what it looked like. You, the human he kept running into, standing behind the bar, pouring tequila (he was pretty sure it was tequila) into a row of shot glasses lined up on Aaron's muscular torso. The horseman winked at you and tightened his already chiselled stomach. The glasses clinked.

"Okay... one, two, three, _go_."

The shots were snatched up by the crowd of eager barflies. Drunk Bunny missed her mouth and splashed his hoodie instead. That's when her swirly eyes focused on him.

"Sansy!" she hollered in delight.

"heya buns," he said, neatly sidestepping her drunken lunge. She ended up splayed on Aaron's stomach instead, who was still lying across the bar. He didn't look unhappy about that.

You backed up a step or two, protecting the bottle of tequila you still held. You looked amused. Huh.

"Sans!" Another barfly flanked him. "Like, we haven't seen you in ages!"

"Like, forever!" her friend added.

Right. He knew these two, Alphys' friends from the old MTT resort. Uh.... Kitty? "catty," he shot her a wink and a lazy finger gun. "bratty. sure been a while. didn't know you two were topside."

Bratty giggled. "We're on vacation!"

"Yeah! We just came up to dig through people's garbage!"

"We like, found some great stuff!"

"aw, that's nice."

Conversation made, he turned back to the bar to make his regular order, only for Grillby to unexpectedly seize him by the collar of his jacket and pull him right off his feet.

"whoa whoa, grillbz, is this about the tab? cuz i said i would mmrf—"

He was cut off when Grillby yanked him over the bar and planted a very heavy smooch right on his teeth. A whoop went up somewhere across the bar.

" _oh_. oh yeah," he said sheepishly, when Grillby let him go. "right. that's uh, that's a thing now."

The fire monster rolled his eyes, and pecked Sans' face again. You looked on, now in bemusement.

"You guys are together?" you asked, helping yourself to some whiskey on the rocks.

"got a problem, pal?" he asked you, settling into the crook of his new boyfriend's arm.

"Nah. Just that this is tagged for Sans/Reader, and I was honestly wondering how that was even gonna work out," you gestured with your glass. "You know, since you're a skeleton and I'm a salty bitch."

He snickered. "sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but i like 'em fiery."

Grillby smacked him.

You contentedly sipped your whiskey, happy now that you didn't have to figure out how to fuck a skeleton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April everyone, the real chapter 12 will be up soon ;D


End file.
